


The Anvil Oath Chronicle

by MandyMyfanwy



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gameplay Journal, Gen, Sarcasm, Swearing, This is Skyrim so canon-typical violence can be quite a bit, what main quest?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 80
Words: 40,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25857478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandyMyfanwy/pseuds/MandyMyfanwy
Summary: When Zulga set out from the Orc mine she'd grown up in, she didn't expect to end up in the middle of all this nonsense. In-character journal written during a Skyrim playthrough. Each chapter is fairly bite-sized, because there's only so much you can say about a day when your character isn't stopping to write down dialogue.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. 12th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the twelfth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I am Zulga Ogriimjud. Today I set forth from my home.

...That seems a little dramatic, but best to set the basic facts out so that anyone who finds this knows who's writing and what's going on.

If you've stolen my journal, please know that I will smash you into tiny pieces, and then jump on them. If you've found it somewhere, find me and give it back and there might be gold in it for you. If you've found it on my corpse... what are you doing going through a dead orc girl's belongings?

Anyway.

 ~~My name is Zulga~~. I said that already. I've decided to leave home because I'm getting a little too tall for some parts of the mine, and if I'm going to end up with concussions, I'd rather have some fun to earn it.

So, I've sworn the Anvil Oath to Malacath, made myself the best set of orc-steel armour I could, with a big war-hammer to match (what can I say? I like big hammers), and set out.

...If you're not Orsimer, you probably have no idea what the Anvil Oath is. If you don't know who Malacath is, I'm just going to judge you and not explain.

Short version, as someone who's wielded a mining pick and a smith's hammer since before I could walk, I've sworn not to wield a weapon, or wear a scrap of armour, unless it's from my own sweat over an anvil. 

Yes, that might turn out wildly impractical at some point.

If it was easy, it wouldn't be worth some fancy oath, would it?

Exactly.

So, on to the world! I've heard that there's a lot going on in the province of Skyrim, so I might as well start there. Good thing I made sure the armour set includes good marching boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For this playthrough, I'm using the following self-imposed rules:  
> \- No using weapons/armour/ammunition that I haven't crafted.  
> \- Sleep every night  
> \- Eat every day  
> \- No fast travel (get ready for days filled with walking and random encounters)
> 
> I'm using the following mods that affect gameplay (plus a few graphical ones for my own enjoyment):  
> \- Open Civil War  
> \- Civil War Aftermath  
> \- Bandit Economy  
> \- Civil War Economy  
> \- The Paarthurnax Dilemma  
> \- Diverse Skyrim


	2. 15th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Fredas, the fifteenth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Okay, so I've missed a few days. What do you want me to write? "To my imaginary reader, today I walked. There were trees, and rocks, and at one point, a tree on top of a rock! I saw a bunny, it was delicious."

Well, today there was more than tree, rock, bunny, campfire, roast bunny. I think I've found some sort of military squad. The guy who seems to be leading it is very loud, and looks rich. I've stayed pretty much out of sight, and it's not like they're doing much in the way of keeping up scouting or patrols around them.

Sloppy, really. If they've not noticed the muscular Orsimer lass with very pointy tusks thank-you-very-much, then they're not the sort of military squad that's used to actually being out in the forest like this.

Maybe the loud rich guy is a general or something? Pretty stupid to be out here with so few troops, then. But what do I know? I just swing hammers.

~~~O~~~

So I followed them a while, and it looks like they're setting up a camp. These Nords are pretty weird. Big fancy tent for the loud rich guy, sleeping bags and tarps strung up over spears for everyone else.

That big tent could easily hold all of them, if they huddled up together like sensible people.

Listening to them sitting around the fire was a mistake though. Took all I had not to go hit them for the amount of "everyone but Nords out of Skyrim" crap they kept muttering to each other. Not like they had anyone to convince, even if I'm convinced that whatever side they're on, they probably don't want me around much.


	3. 16th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Loredas, the sixteenth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Who do you suppose I've offended?

Hopefully not Malacath. If he's sent this all down, then it's a test, not a punishment. But it's an oblivion of a start to things if this is a test... Maybe Nocturnal? Hiding near some Nords a bit too much like spying? Or Talos, I've heard he likes those types.

Whichever of the et'Ada I've trod on the toes of, I'm sorry. But was an Imperial ambush really the best way to go about things?

So last night, I was watching that band of Nords and judging them, as you do. Still no scouts set out, and no night guards as they were all going to bed.

Maybe that's why the Imperials decided I was with them? I was in an okay spot for a guard, and watching inwards instead of outwards is the sort of stupid thing for a guard to do that they were probably expecting, if this is normal.

So, I've got no armour, and no weapon. They gave me some... honestly insultingly bad clothes to replace them. I can only assume "stinking dirty rags" is some sort of tradition for prisoners with them. I managed to keep my journal at least, and writing with your wrists tied together is only very awful.

Oh, and apparently loud rich guy is Ulfric Stormcloak, the leader of the not-Imperial side of the civil war they've got going on. He's tied up extra well, and even muzzled. If my hands were free, I'd poke him with a stick.

Not sure who I blame more for this, that Stormcloak guy, the smug Imperial who captured me, or whichever et'Ada I annoyed to get myself here.

At least I got a couple of good swings in before they managed to knock me down and take my hammer. There's one soldier with a headache he'll never wake up from, and another who'll remember me every time he raises his left arm. Serves them right.


	4. 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Sundas, the seventeenth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Things I hate:

  * Having my armour stolen while all these Stormcloak-serving idiots get to keep theirs (I guess mine was just that much nicer to thieving fingers)
  * Imperial prison carts that hit every rock and rut on the entire damn road.
  * Fellow prisoners in a hurry to die.
  * Imperial execution blocks.
  * Dragons which apparently exist _what the shit is going on_.



So I got away, and got somewhere the dragon isn't following. Now I just need to get out of here the rest of the way.

I really wish I had my hammer.

~~~O~~~

Things I hate continued:

  * Not having my hammer when getting attacked by people with swords.
  * Not having any mead in my belly when I have to punch thick Imperial skulls.
  * Thick Imperial skulls.
  * Creepy Imperial torture chambers.



I have no idea why I'm following this Ralof guy. He has no more idea of what's going on than I do, he was on the same cart as me. But it was him, some Imperial, or run off somewhere on my own. And when I'm completely disarmed and unarmoured, I'd rather have someone else around to take some of the attention.

Looks like I'm never getting my hammer back. Today sucks.

~~~O~~~

Things I hate continued some more:

  * Giant spiders.
  * Fist-fighting giant spiders.
  * Getting bitten by giant spiders.
  * ~~Bears~~



Actually, bears are fine. Much better to punch than spiders. Might even be able to use the pelt for something if I ever find my way out of this damp cave. It was a dungeon, now it's a cave. Points for using the natural structures I guess.

Managed to find some coins in the dungeon-cave-thing, too, so as soon as I can get somewhere with a smithy, I just need to waggle my tusks at someone and convince them to give me a few hours at their anvil.

Probably can't get orc-steel out here, though. I'll have to make do.

~~~O~~~

Things I don't hate:

  * Being out of that damned cave.



Apparently the next town over from Helgen (where I apparently just "left") is Riverwood? Hopefully I can find a smithy, a meal, and a bed, in that order.

~~~O~~~

Things I do hate again:

  * Being attacked by wolves when I have no hammer.
  * Punching wolves.
  * Finding a silver ring on one of the wolves when I'm skinning it, is that from the last tasty walking snack? Whatever, it'll sell for a few coin and get me some smithing materials.



~~~O~~~

The ring sold for a little money, at least, and the blacksmith here said I can use his setup if I'm careful. Not enough coin for as much material as I need to get myself equipped again, and he only has basic iron, but it's a start.

~~~O~~~

Took later into the night than I'd hoped, but I've got a decent breastplate, a hammer, and some boots (the smith and his very talkative daughter helped me get it done faster). Of course, after all that work, the local inn wouldn't take me (do they not appreciate the natural musk of an Orsimer hard at work? Rude), but Ralof's family had a spare spot by the fire. I guess they're not so bad, at least.


	5. 18th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Morndas, the eighteenth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Well, as nights of sleep I've had go, that was certainly... one of them. But it looks like I won't be spending much longer in Riverwood, they want someone to take word of the dragon attack on Helgen to someone called the Jarl, in somewhere called Whiterun.

I think a Jarl is the local equivalent to a chief or a mine boss?

Good thing I put some boots together last night.

~~~O~~~

Five minutes out of Riverwood, and there are MORE wolves? What is it with this area? Do I just smell delicious?

It feels good to have a hammer back in my hands, even if those wolves aren't happy about it. Well, those wolves aren't much of anything about anything, now.

~~~O~~~

Wolves are one thing. But I'm nearly to Whiterun (I think), and what do I see? Three people taking down a GIANT.

Now, I'm no idiot. I didn't step in to that fight, because getting involved in that sort of thing is not good for one's health. But apparently, that's offensive to them and shows I'm not a true warrior?

Bunch of pompous meat-heads. Whatever a Companion is, it apparently involves an attitude problem.

~~~O~~~

FINALLY I've made it to Whiterun. As cities go, it seems fond of stairs and hills. Must be good for the thigh muscles.

There's a smithy right inside the front gate - very sensible. The smith (nice arms, would be cute if she had some tusks) apparently thinks I'm good for running errands. While I'm running an errand. At least she wants me to take something to pretty much where I'm going anyway?

~~~O~~~

Any chief who puts his longhall at the top of that many Malacath-damned stairs is either trying to make a point, or make sure all his guests arrive tired.

Maybe it's a defensive thing? Guards with locally-trained thigh muscles will have a much easier time getting there than any plains-trained invader?

Just as soon as my legs stop aching, I'll give him a piece of my mind, and that message.

~~~O~~~

Things I hate:

  * Over-enthusiastic bodyguards coming at me with weapons drawn.
  * Being given armour as a reward. It's very nice, but I can't wear this.
  * Self-important wizards.



It seems like everyone I meet wants me to keep moving and go do something else for them. Well, I'm not going running into some tomb without a day or two of rest, and some more time at a forge.

But after that, an adventure sounds fun! It's what I left home for, after all...

~~~O~~~

**YES I MAKE IT TO THE CLOUD DISTRICT YOU POMPOUS ARSE WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT TO SOMEONE WHO IS HEAVILY ARMED AND JUST CAME DOWN FROM YOUR CHIEF'S HALL ARE YOU AN IDIOT**

~~~O~~~

Another day of work, and I'm reasonably happy with the set of armour I've put together. Still no sign of orc-steel though.

At least the inn here isn't run by someone who gets so uppity about someone who's just done a day's work.


	6. 19th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the nineteenth day of the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

You know what annoys me most about those sticky-fingered Imperial soldiers making off with my armour and hammer? I worked really hard on it.

You know what annoys me second most about it? They took my money while they were at it.

So, I've spent this morning working at the forge, and even chopping firewood (not too different from swinging a pick, really). I've managed to scrape together enough money for better materials, at least a start on it, than the low-grade iron I found in Riverwood. So at least my helmet is half way reasonable.

I was planning on waiting a day or two before heading off to this barrow they want me to fetch something from it, but I'm starting to feel the itch to actually do something a little more stimulating, and I can't afford more metal just yet.

Hopefully nothing weird happens.

~~~O~~~

Maybe the reason that Whiterun has so many stairs in it is that there are so many mountains around outside it. Might as well get your thighs used to it in the safety of your walled city, before you try going outside.

I ran into some rather merry Nords having a party, on the climb up. They gave me some mead, which I think I might need before the day's out. Can't say I look forward to climbing a mountain then poking around in a tomb.

~~~O~~~

This mountain climbing adventure really is made so much easier by the wolves that apparently live up here. And this one had a silver ring in its stomach, too! What is with this place?

~~~O~~~

What sort of idiotic people would set up camp in an abandoned tower half way up a mountain, where it snows constantly, and the only passers-by would have to be hiking up a mountain, and then tries to rob anyone they see?

An idiotic sort, I suppose. I put them out of my misery. As you might predict, they didn't even have any interesting spoils of their adventures. 

Thanks for the apples, I guess.

~~~O~~~

Half way up a mountain was stupid.

On top of the mountain, at the entrance to a tomb? That makes no sense at all.

Really wishing I'd thought to bring a cloak on this little adventure though.

I was wrong. Not entirely nonsense, it looks like they're actually setting up a camp in the entrance to the tomb instead of outside it, and then raiding it for... I guess Nords bury their dead with something valuable? Guess I'll find out.

It's getting pretty late, and these guys have set up a little camp here. Even have some food and mead. I've scouted around, and it looks pretty quiet (don't blame me, they attacked first).

Tomb-diving on the same day as mountain climbing seems a bit much. Time for a sleep.


	7. 20th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Middas, the twentieth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Note to self, sleeping in the entrance to a tomb, with wind howling outside, isn't the most restful.

Hopefully the wind will die down once I go further inside. Here goes nothing.

~~~O~~~

"Victory or Sovngarde!" I can only assume that that's some Nord afterlife? Well, if that's the only choice, you're not getting victory. Maybe I should name my hammer that...

Why there's a puzzle-based locking system on this door, I've no idea. Why put the answer above the door, if it's meant to keep people out?

~~~O~~~

Things I hate:

  * Skeevers jumping at me out of nowhere
  * Oversized giant spiders that want to eat me



~~~O~~~

**WHAT THE SHIT**

I was half way through mentally composing "things I hate: people who beg for help then run away calling you a moron", but APPARENTLY THE DEAD DON'T STAY THAT WAY HERE.

When I get back to Whiterun, I'm going to slap that wizard until hy hand goes numb, then change hands. Go explore this tomb, he says. Find a fancy stone for me, he says. No mention of "oh by the way, we bury our dead fully armed, and sometimes they wake up and are angry".

At least the guy who insulted me ran into them first. Saves me the effort of staving his head in.

But look, whoever's reading my journal, do me a favour? If you ever die, please stay that way.

~~~O~~~

And who the hell puts spring-loaded traps and giant swinging axes in their tombs? Either there's something super valuable in here, or they're just to keep the undead in line...

~~~O~~~

As I see it, there are two options. Either the people who buried their presumably-loved-ones here thought they'd stay dead, and should face the afterlife armed to the teeth (I can respect that), or they knew they might wake up again, and should get to cause some extra mayhem in this life after they'd departed it (now that I write that out, I think I can respect that too...)

~~~O~~~

Another puzzle-based door. There's a picture of a dragon claw like that guy who insulted me had, and what looks like a code lock, that matches what's carved on the claw.

Maybe it's just to make sure that whoever is opening the door has a functional brain? Would stop those undead at least (I hope - they seem to be able to use bows at least).

~~~O~~~

This place got weirder.

Again.

There was a wall covered in what I can only assume was writing, but as I went closer to have a look at it, things got glowy and weird.

Don't ask me to explain it, all I can give you is glowy and weird.

Then I got the strangest urge to just ... push something, really hard.

Lucky me, another one of those undead jerks popped out of his sarcophagus behind me, and my hammer and I got to do some good old pushing. And he was carrying that dragon stone thing I was sent here for.

I really want to go anywhere else right now. Somewhere warm, where the only people who are moving are people who haven't died yet.

I just hope the ones I put down will stay down, otherwise they'll be limping around on various broken bones and growling.

~~~O~~~

And apparently the exit from the barrow just there puts me on the side of a mountain, with no way down but to jump and clamber over rocks? Charming. Oh and there's mammoth bones and blood stains below. I am just radiating confidence.

I think that's the same river that goes through Riverwood, down there? I'll follow that, and hopefully end up not so lost soon.

~~~O~~~

I was right! And it turns out that the golden dragon claw belongs to the guy who runs the general traders' in Riverwood.

Or he says it does.

I really don't care. He gave me some good coin for it, and I'm never going back into that icy hole full of the restless dead. I'm going to take his coin, and move on.

Plus, the few things I managed to find in the barrow got me a little more coin on top of it.

~~~O~~~

Back to the city that loves its stairs. No wolves on the way this time, thank Malacath, but a rather pompous rich guy. Long story short, he called me a peasant, I told him to watch his tongue, he set his bodyguard on me to 'teach me a lesson'. Long story even shorter, crunch.

No way I'm climbing all the way up those stairs to the Jarl's hall after dealing with that barrow, so I'm just going to get some more work done at the forge, and maybe flirt with the smith a little.

~~~O~~~

So it turns out that the bard at the inn I've been staying at has been harassing someone. I ... spoke to him. I might have mentioned what Orsimer women do when men can't keep their hands to themselves.

He didn't even get all the way through the first story before he gave up!


	8. 21st of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Turdas, the twenty-first day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

This entire province seems intent on driving me mad. I trek all the way up the too many steps to the Jarl's hall. I even go up the extra steps he has between the front door and anything actually interesting inside. I give the smug wizard his dragon stone, and half way through yelling at him about the very concept of the restless undead, we get told about another dragon attack, not too far from the city.

Oh, and this time we're going to run TOWARDS it, not away. Not exactly peak survival instinct there, but I guess that's what they train city guards to do.

Not that I'm a city guard.

You know what's best about wielding a warhammer? Trying to take down something that flies, and breathes fire. Lucky for me, dragons are apparently bad at strategy, and this one decided to land and try to bite people, in between bouts of flying around raining firey death.

I think it was smaller than the one from Helgen. Or is that just abject terror messing with my memory?

Anyway.

After we took it down, things got glowy again. Glowy and weird. And then the dead dragon was just a dragon skeleton? You could still see a guard it had eaten inside. Gross.

Then the Nord guards there started saying I must be a dragon-born? Thank you but I know both of my parents, and neither had wings. Probably some metaphor thing.

Then they tell me to shout, to prove it? I tried yelling at them, but apparently shouting is also a technical name for some specific thing, for Nords.

Well, two glowy and weird things in as many days, maybe they're linked? So I thought back to that feeling of wanting to shove something from the creepy barrow, and shouted at the dragon skeleton, and bash my head on a mine support if it didn't shift back like a bull had run into it.

So apparently I'm magic now.

That was a ridiculously hard fight. I need to make myself a bow as soon as I can find some materials, so that the next flying jerk can get some pointy justice before it lands.

Plan for the rest of the day: find out if someone in Whiterun sells burn salve.


	9. 22nd of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Fredas, the twenty-second day of the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Oh good, it's raining. Because what I really needed when starting my day with an unnecessary number of bare stone stairs up to the Jarl's hall to tell him about the dragon... is for them to be slippery as well.

~~~O~~~

So the good news is, for helping to take down a dragon, I've been named as a Thane of Whiterun. Apparently that's a major deal? I'm still getting used to Nord titles.

The bad news is, some important group named for facial hair (or maybe for being old?) has summoned me to somewhere called High Hrothgar. It apparently involves climbing something called The Seven Thousand Steps. Three guesses as to why people in Whiterun might be in awe of them.

I'm to rush off immediately. And climb another mountain.

The tallest mountain.

You'll forgive me if I don't leap to obey all these details of a three-syllable order. And in such charming weather.

~~~O~~~

I've decided I probably should be moving on from Whiterun and heading at least vaguely in the direction of this High Hrothgar. So, a day spent checking over my gear, making sure I've got food enough for the trip, and getting into a fistfight with someone in a tavern (she bet me a hundred gold that I couldn't take her in a fight. I'll enjoy her money).

You can never have too many arrows...


	10. 23rd of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Loredas, the twenty-third day of the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Back onto the road once more. If there's one thing I miss about Whiterun, it's the bard in that inn. I'm looking forward to waking up without his awful singing. Even if it means sleeping under a bush somewhere.

Is the condition of all of these road signs an intentional defensive thing? I wouldn't put it past Nords to start ruining their own navigation markers just to confuse an invading army (which is what they're calling the Imperials). Inconvenient, though.

~~~O~~~

  1. Hate. Necromancers.



I saw another one of those standing stones, like I found near Helgen, and I go to have a look at it... and some Argonian in a creepy robe decides to animate some nearby corpses and send them after me! Is this why that barrow had so many undead?

Raising the dead to do your bidding is even more creepy than just regular undead, I think. Leave them be.

~~~O~~~

You know, it's nice to meet some stupid bandits with at least a minimum amount of intelligence.

Apparently that road is a "toll road", and costs a stupid amount of money to get through. I didn't particularly feel like a fight, but a big hammer and a toothy grin was finally enough to make someone see sense.

I'm getting enough archery and skinning practice from all the wolves along this road as it is...

Word to the wise: if you run up to me in Imperial armour, and demand money or you'll "gut me like a fish"? You don't get the grin, just the hammer, stupid cat.

Wolves are one thing, but a triple-damned sabre cat? The roads of Skyrim are clearly for mad people. I think I got the pelt off pretty cleanly, though, should fetch a few coin.

Oh, another sabre cat. Are people just used to this? Or is that why people stay in their comfortable walled cities and just be smug at one another?

I'm starting to get the feeling I took a wrong turn somewhere. The road is getting even more patchy (if you can believe it), I'm half way up a mountain, and now it's raining.

Asking for help, and then using it as a lure for a trap? Not too bad, as ideas go.

Trying it on me? While standing near a cliff? Would have been educational, if he was still around to learn anything from it...

This is what I get for being nice.

~~~O~~~

They say Malacath grants visions to a lucky few.

Today I met one such. Perhaps I was even in his vision.

An old orc, past his time and seeking a good death. By the sabre cats and wolves lying at his feet, the world had been trying, but not hard enough.

I was able to grant him a good fight (I have the cuts to prove it), and send him onward.

Perhaps this day is a good one after all.

~~~O~~~

If it's one of the bandits, thieves, robbers, brigands, ne'er-do-wells, or jerks of Skyrim reading this some day, I have one simple request.

If you're going to mug a pretty orc with nice sharp tusks and a big hammer, please try to have a goodly amount of gold in your pockets, to make it worth her while to bash your brains out. That's all. That's not so hard, right?

Spiders. No.

Oh, and the road signs are starting to point to Helgen as well. That's just what I wanted a reminder of today, thank you.

~~~O~~~

So this is Ivarstead, town at the base of the ridiculously tall mountain. If you can call it a town. One inn, a couple of houses. 

At least the inn's roof doesn't leak, and the bed seems fairly solid. It'll do.


	11. 24th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Sundas, the twenty-fourth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So, today I try the seven thousand steps that they're so proud of.

You'll never guess, though.

It's raining.

I've traded the loan of a cloak for carrying some supplies up there as well. Seemed like the best idea, I'm pretty sure it's going to get worse than just this rain.

~~~O~~~

Looks like there are little shrines to make the climb more interesting. Maybe I might even learn something.

The goats make nice climbing companions.

Apparently this Voice and Shouting thing was originally a dragon thing? That would explain why those guards in Whiterun were so sure I must be dragon born, I guess.

The wolves do not make nice climbing companions.

The rain has stopped, but the wind full of ice crystals is pretty annoying on its own.

Oh. Good. A frost troll. I'm just going to ... hide a little while, then work out a good spot to practice my archery from, I think.

Well, I thought it had wandered off while I was hiding. Nope, just further up the trail.

Running away from a troll in this sort of cold is not good for your lungs. I want a nice mine.

~~~O~~~

So this is High Hrothgar. Probably would have a pretty nice view if not for all the clouds and ice-wind in the way. It being built out of such huge quantities of stone, in such large slabs, means whoever built it was willing to throw a lot of labour into making something impressive that few would ever see. Ridiculous.

I still think seven thousand steps is too many steps. Especially when there's a frost troll on them. That I'm going to need to get past again on my way down.

Well, I'll say this for the Greybeards. The name is accurate enough.

Short version: the whole Shouting thing is dragon magic, that I'm apparently gifted by the gods to be naturally able to do. Some more weird glowy magic things happened, and I think I can control a few Shouts now? It's all very strange.

Of course, being true Nords, the first thing they did after that was tell me I had to go into ANOTHER tomb, to bring back some artefact. If there are undead in that one too, I'll be grumpy.

I'm already grumpy. It's cold here. And I need to find somewhere to get some sleep, before I try climbing all the way back down the eleventy million steps. Otherwise I might trip, and bounce my way down them instead. Bad idea, that.

...I guess they really don't see many visitors. A chair by a fire it is, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [character picture](https://64.media.tumblr.com/5748b510a8a63cbc725bd073d73815d9/a34277055dbf3c3f-21/s640x960/1c2f3ec4af81ea484974109c83beabea64ea8abe.png) appears! These will come along every so often, when there's something interesting to show.


	12. 25th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Morndas, the twenty-fifth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I'm sorry, did my complaining about the cold on this snow-covered wind-swept mountain offend someone? It's not as if I said anything unfair or untrue. You didn't have to send a dragon after me while I was climbing down this mountain again.

I thought the day started so well. Down the steps is nicer than up the steps. I managed to sneak past that frost troll. And then a dragon flies overhead, spots me, and suddenly things are a lot warmer.

Not entirely sure how I survived, but definitely sure I want to start carrying burn salve with me wherever I go in this screwy place.

Today just keeps getting better and better. I get back to Ivarstead, and some cultists attack me! Luckily, the guards took offense at them throwing fire magic in a flammable town, so it wasn't as uneven a fight as they had planned. According to the letter one of them was carrying, they were meant to stop me before I get to Solstheim. I have no plans on going to Solstheim! What's going on?

No point hanging around in Ivarstead, it's not exactly a hive of activity. For lack of something better to do, I think I'll make a tour of all the hold capitals. I think Riften is next on my list.

~~~O~~~

Well, Skyrim is the gift that just keeps on giving angry morons. Servants of Stendarr, who's supposedly all about mercy, came up to me preaching about how Daedra are all evil and to be wiped off the face of Mundus.

I asked if that included Malacath.

They were ... offended. And carry maces. Well, carried. Have they not studied Orsimer beliefs? Just because they've divided the gods into good and bad, and I follow one they've declared bad, they attacked. 

Nutters.

Now there's a sight I wasn't expecting to see out here, a real longhouse! I'd heard rumours of a few Orsimer strongholds in Skyrim, and I think I just found one.

The gate was locked up tight and nobody in sight, but when I get homesick, I know where I'll be coming back to.

~~~O~~~

Riften's city guards seem to be a special bunch. Some rude, some just corrupt.

Apparently it's some great offense to try to get in by the south gate. You know, the one the road leads you do. Why have a gate there, then?

And the north gate apparently has a 'visitor's tax'. Not paying any guard bribes just to get in the front gate, I think.

Well then. From the chatter around the market, and the fool just coming straight up to me when I was just getting to the smithy to try to recruit me into some scheme, I guess Riften is a bit of a crime town. Gold purse will be staying close (not that it has much to interest anyone).

And to make things stranger, a courier just gave me a letter from the Jarl of Falkreath. Apparently, my exploits have already reached their ears, and they think I might make a good Thane of their hold in the future.

So much for it being some lofty and difficult title...

This city is weird. I got to the inn, and there was a priest of Mara lecturing people about how the dragons returning was their fault, for drinking.

What is it with these Aedra clerics, that they have to stick their noses in everyone else's business?

I'm really looking forward to this bed here, after all that mountain climbing and cold air, every single joint aches.


	13. 26th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the twenty-sixth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I thought sleeping was supposed to stop everything aching. I hate everything.

Well. Apparently I wasn't just sore, I'd come down with a case of rockjoint. Probably from one of those damned wolves that keep attacking me. The local apothecary recognised it, and was just too happy to sell me a cure potion.

Hopefully it kicks in soon. In the mean time, I'll spend the morning at the smithy, trying to make a few coin by helping out.

~~~O~~~

Well now. I stopped for lunch, and some of the Jarl's men came in to post a bounty! Seems a group of bandits have been causing trouble, and they want someone to go show them the error of their ways.

Hammer on anvil, bigger hammer on bandit, such a decision. Might as well help them clean up.

Looks like this watch tower they want cleared of bandits is further out than I thought. Guess it'll be a day of hiking, and then some head-smashing tomorrow. Ah well, something to look forward to.

The little town of Shor's Stone looks interesting. Looks like they have a mine here, might have to stop here later and get a few coin. People always love an orc down a mine.

More spiders. I'm really growing to hate frostbite spiders. They don't even give a satisfying fight, just ... stab me with those fangs. Rude.

Oh, and more wolves.

I'm starting to wonder if I took the wrong road. It's going a lot more northerly than I thought the map had said. If it doesn't get me to the west soon, I'm going to go quite mad.

Not sure if it's the wolf bites or the steep mountain roads, but everything's starting to ache again.

If they've given me rockjoint again right after I got it cured, I'm gonna be grumpy. Good thing I bought two bottles of that tonic, not just one.

So I've had necromancers, thieves, bandits, and mad cultists, so why not add a hired assassin to the list? In proper creepy-looking leathers and everything. They had a contract note on them, someone has paid good money to have me killed.

I'm almost flattered.

~~~O~~~

A-ha, there's the watch tower they wanted cleared. It's a bit late in the day, but I think I'll bust heads now, and maybe borrow one of their beds once the job's done.

Well then. Looks like it was a little band of orcs causing all that trouble.

They didn't want to talk, unfortunately, but they each gave me a good fight before I sent them onward, so there's no shame in it for them.

Would have rathered not, but they attacked first.

When they said it was a big, dangerous nest of bandits, I was picturing something more than three of them. Still enough time left in the day to make a start on the trip back.

~~~O~~~

Odd place for a market. Redwater, I think the guard said? Definitely curious to see what's going on here.

...Ah. It's a skooma den. That's less exciting than it might have been.

The amount of coughing coming from down that corridor makes me ... less than excited about this. If I'm going to go for mind-altering brews, I'll stick to mead and singing too loud.

I think I might just ... quietly take my leave.

~~~O~~~

Took a wrong turn, and I've no idea where the road is any more. I'll just put the setting sun at my back, for as long as it stays up, and that should at least get me in the right direction.

That many spiders is too many spiders.

I hate spiders.

I think I've knocked all of them down though, and the sun is setting. Time to find a quiet nook somewhere, and set up a camp as best I can. When it's light again, I'll follow the sun.


	14. 27th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Midas, the twenty-seventh day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Camping in armour is an experience. I do not recommend it.

Ah, perfect. Two more hills east, and I find myself on the shores of the lake that Riften fishes. Now then... It was the north gate I need to get to, right? So I just need to turn left, and follow the shore. 

What is it with this place and skooma? That doesn't seem like a good time.

I came across an Argonian woman who was trying to get clean of the stuff. I gave her one of my healing potions, and she gave me a silver ruby ring! She must have been really desperate.

If I find out who's peddling this stuff, I might just ... contribute to the local health programs.

Well, nobody in the Jarl's hall wanted to talk about the skooma around here. So I just collected the bounty (not much coin for it) and left.

On my way out though, I got to talking to the court wizard. I'm not usually one for magic (other than dragon magic apparently??) but she talked me in to trying my hand at enchantment. Could be good for a smith, she said. So I gave it a try with that ring the Argonian gave me. Should fetch a few more coin.

~~~O~~~

The Argonian mentioned she worked at the Riften Fishery. That seems as good a place to start as any, right? The guards don't want to talk about it, and they didn't exactly teach me investigation skills down the mine...

Well, she's apparently been threatened with death to not tell anyone, so I'll have to be quick about dealing with it now that she's talked to me. She was still pretty grateful for the potion before. I have a name, but apparently only the Jarl has the key to get into the warehouse they operate from (suspicious much?)

This really is a crime town. I just got attacked by three hired thugs, in the middle of the marketplace!

The local beggar woman grabbed a knife and helped me out. I like her.

The person who hired them even signed his name to the contract. I'll find them, for sure.

Hm. The smith's apprentice. I guess he was jealous that I was working the forge there as well. If he sends anyone else after me, I'll switch to the non-smithing hammer. For now, I'll take what he paid the thugs as my compensation.

So, it seems that the Jarl already knew the name as well. But the town guard has some rats in it.

But, I've got her blessing to go and mess this dealer up. Time to go do some good.

~~~O~~~

Well, the dealer didn't try to make himself scarce, at all. But not wearing a helmet in combat, when your enemy has a big hammer? Hardly a survival tactic.

Any day where doing a good deed involves swinging a big hammer is a good day.

There's a lot of bottles of skooma down here. And a note with a name and place for the next shipment coming in. Why these people commit so much to writing, I'll never know (she says while committing everything to writing).

According to the Jarl's map, the place they're dealing from is one I walked almost straight past, yesterday. Not sure there'll be enough time in the day to clear it out, but it's near that little mining town. Might stop there for the night, and smash some heads first thing in the morning.

The bandit-occupied fort on the way up here is pretty tedious. They yell threats at me every time I go past. Might clean them up on the way back...

...Damn spiders. Ruin everything.

I went to have a look in the mine here, and it's full of frostbite spiders!

That's just unhygienic.

I guess my first job helping out with that mine will be swinging a hammer, not a pick.


	15. 28th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Turdas, the twenty-eighth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Not a bad little town. Could do with an inn, but I made do.

Let's go have a rousing morning  violence justice.

Well, I'll give them this much. They sure made the entrance to their drug den look creepy. The caged, howling wolves were a nice touch.

Going to leave them right there, though.

The guard at the entrance had a warhammer, but I don't think he knew how to use it so much. Not as good as me, at least.

The next guard in had a triple-damned ORC-STEEL warhammer. That's almost insulting. If it weren't for my Anvil Oath, I'd gladly take it off his (cold) hands.

And apparently the first part of the cave isn't a skooma den, just a plain-old wolf fighting pit. I'm really starting to hate wolf-bites.

~~~O~~~

If I'm going to keep walking the roads through these forests, I think I need to work out some way to stop getting rockjoint from these damn wolves. Is it bad that I can recognise it setting in?

Maybe one of the magic types can do an enchanted amulet or something. It's getting annoying.

By which I mean OW.

So, I'm looking at this bandit-infested fort, and trying to work out how best to handle stopping them from annoying me. Pick a few off with my bow? Get some guard reinforcements?

...Never mind, the rain just started up AGAIN and everything aches and I'm grumpy. I'll just go in the front door, and start swinging. That'll teach them.

Word to the wise: if you're going to call someone with a big hammer "orc filth", be sure to wear a helmet.

Or even a shirt. Damn, that seems unnecessary.

Looks like they have a prison set up here. Oh lovely, and they've filled it with spiders. I should check it, just in case they've got anyone down there.

I guess this is my life now.

No prisoners, and no extra bandits. Well, not living ones anyway. A couple covered in spider bites. Serves em right.

One of those cells is nicer than some inn rooms I've stayed in.

Decent amount of coin upstairs, though. And for some reason, a shrine to Stendarr. Isn't he meant to be about righteousness and mercy?

I swear, Aedra followers are crazy.

....Aaaand the kitchen is full of people-skeletons. I'm not sure I want to hang around here any more.

I was going to say that that's what clearing out a nest of bandits should be like, but the signs of cannibalism really ruined the mood.

~~~O~~~

I must remember that Jarls are fond of giving things from their armoury as gifts and rewards.

Probably some cultural show/sharing of strength thing.

Still annoying when you've sworn the Anvil Oath and would rather just get the coin.

Last on my to-do list for today: visit the apothecary and stock up on healing salves and such. Maybe convince him to show me how to mix together my own. That seems like a useful life skill, around here.


	16. 29th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Fredas, the twenty-ninth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I think it's time to continue on my tour. If the weather holds out and not too many things try to eat me on the road, I should be able to make it to Windhelm by the end of the day. I'm told it's an important city, so there should be something interesting to see.

It looks like that bandit fort I cleared out has been reoccupied by the Stormcloaks. Probably for the best, stops another bunch of bandits coming back in, but you'd think they could have done the work to clear it themselves, if they wanted it.

There was a particularly fine stag on the road here, so I decided to see how it would take an arrow. My aim was good, and tonight's venison dinner will be better.

It might make the journey take twice as long, but it turns out that the blue flowers growing along this road are the type I need for healing salves. Given how things have gone so far, I'd rather be late, but prepared.

A new entry in stupidity: building a major road right alongside a giant's camp. There's even the scattered remnants of a trading caravan here. And a note saying that the giant has official leave to be here.

I won't be trying anything if I see them.

Malacath save me from over-eager Aedra worshippers.

Another run in with the Vigil of Stendarr. Apparently they have some home base around Skyrim somewhere. I was even minding my own business, picking a nice looking batch of snowberries.

Another lecture on the dangers of the evil, irredeemable Daedra and all their followers. I'm getting really sick of these people.

Not like they were carrying any gold, either. The healing potions will be useful though.

~~~O~~~

So this is Windhelm. I think they went to the same "big slabs of stone make everything more impressive" school of architecture as whoever built High Hrothgar (is there another Hrothgar? Low Hrothgar? Off To The Left A Bit Hrothgar?). At least here they didn't have to haul all those stones up a mountain - and it's not like the designer would be the one doing the carrying.

Well, that was a charming introduction to the city. Not only is it too cold, but the first thing I see is a couple of Nords harassing a Dunmer for... well, not being a Nord, really.

I followed one of them (the one the Dunmer told me is the worst) into the tavern, and introduced him to the joys of an Orsimer's non-Nord fist. I may have forgotten to take off the gauntlets first.

I met a little orphan girl selling flowers to get money for food. Which meant being out in this weather. Her basket's a little heavier, since I swapped all her flowers for coin. Call me soft.

~~~O~~~

I've been here a few hours, and I've already seen all I need to of Windhelm. Impressive architecture, fanatical Nords, downtrodden everyone else.

Can't even spend too long by the smithy, both the people there are pretty pro-Stormcloak, which I'm learning is the "Skyrim belongs to the Nords" faction in this civil war that's bubbling. And, well, I'm not a Nord.

I'll be getting on the road in the morning, I think. No sense risking my neck by trying to stay here too long. Though I think there's a mountain range between here and the next city.

I'm going to jam the door closed overnight, just in case.


	17. 30th of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Loredas, the thirtieth day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Not staying in Windhelm a moment longer than I have to. I'll eat on the road.

~~~O~~~

I know I complained about the shabby road signs near Whiterun, but at least they HAD signs. I just spent half an hour going what I thought was the right way, only for it to turn out to just be the way to some farms.

I'm going to turn around, go the other way, and wherever that road leads me is where I'm going.

Just ran across another group of drinkers out having a good time. Last such group, they gave me a bottle of mead. This time, I shared some of mine with them. They were so impressed! They gave me a rather nice necklace, which I'm pretty sure has an enchantment on it. Good start to the day (just being out of Windhelm is a good start to the day).

It was almost feeling familiar, climbing a badly-maintained road through snow-covered mountains, with occasional wolf attacks, but then it got weird on me. 

An ice wraith. An actual embodiment of cold. Bit me.

So much for a good day.

Just as I was getting excited to see an actual road sign around here, I met another old orc, hoping for a good death.

I honoured his wishes.

But I must wonder, what is it about the lands of Skyrim that is pushing my people like this? Is it too safe, to not provide enough good fights, or just too depressing, with its endless snow and idiotic Nords?

The fort filled with bandits was one thing. But a fort filled with undead and mages? I am just going to walk right on past that as fast as my legs will carry me.

And, of course, as soon as I get over the hill away from it, there's another idiot in stolen Imperial armour, trying to rob me.

This road sucks.

~~~O~~~

Am I cursed? Has someone put an actual, magical curse on this journal?

I complain about the road signs near Whiterun, and Windhelm gives me almost none.

I complain about the bandit-filled fort near Riften, and I get the undead-filled one today.

I complain about Windhelm being somewhere to barely stay a day, and Winterhold is ... barely a city. Some wreckage, an inn, one store, and the Jarl's hall. Not even a smithy. Oh, and a very large, ostentatious, and intact college of magic.

No point in staying here, I think. Though at least I don't have the urge to jam my hammer across the door to make sure I wake up again.

I'm just going to sit in front of this fire until I can't bear it, then find a bed.


	18. 31st of Last Seed, 4E 201

**Sundas, the thirty-first day in the month of Last Seed, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

And also on the list of things Winterhold lacks, we find roads. Only the one exit road. I really hope there's a turning off it before I get back to that creepy undead-laden fort.

~~~O~~~

Today on our list of "criminals too stupid to live", someone just ran up to me, gave me a sword to "hold on to", and threatened to kill me if I told anyone where he went.

I don't like those sort of threats, and neither does my hammer.

Then someone else, who I can only assume he stole the sword from, came chasing him. I gave him the sword, and pointed him at the corpse. No idea if he was in the right, but he didn't threaten me.

No such luck on being able to avoid the undead fort. The guards must really not care, if the only road to Winterhold has that sitting right on it.

I'm not going to do their job for them.

...

...

I think I just saw a dragon fighting a giant.

The dragon flew off, though, so maybe it wasn't fond of being hit with a giant club.

There's hope for me yet, I suppose.

~~~O~~~

On the one hand, having a fort that the road to your city actively passes through is not too bad, as defenses go. Having a small tavern in there as well has some merit. Fort Dunstad, according to some signs.

On the other hand, if you abandon it to get taken over by bandits? You're an idiot.

I'm in a bad mood now, especially after finding what I can only assume to be the innkeeper in his bed and a pool of blood, and I'm going to just ... make there not be any more bandits here. Hopefully some actual guards move in.

I shouldn't be surprised at the amount of skooma bottles I'm finding here, but the number of severed skeever tails? A bit unnerving.

Well, the blood-spattered fenced-in skeever fighting pit might explain it. They've even got skeever heads mounted on the walls. Definitely think I'm making the world a better place right now, by removing these people from it.

~~~O~~~

I think I'm going to become a master leatherworker on the weight of wolf pelts alone...

I heard two interesting things on my way into Dawnstar.

First, vampires have attacked the Hall of the Vigilant, the base of operations for the Vigilants of Stendarr that keep attacking me. Serves them right.

Second, it's a Stormcloak city. Hopefully not so fanatical as Windhelm, though.


	19. 1st of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Morndas, the first day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So as it turns out, there's a mine in Dawnstar. Right in the city, almost. That's nice and convenient. It reminds me of home, really. Just walk out the front door, turn left, and there's the mine.

It's been good to just head underground again, no bandits, no spiders, no politics, just the rhythmic sound of pick meeting stone. There's something relaxing about that sound, almost meditative. Especially when you get into a good rhythm with someone at the next working over. It's almost musical.

Certainly better than that bard in the Whiterun inn. But then, so are some of the wolves I've dealt with.

I've missed this feeling.

Not exactly the most extravagant day of my adventures, so far, but I think I needed this. It's only an iron mine, rather than anything interesting, but just a day of chip, chip, chip...

~~~O~~~

Chip... chip... chip...

Chip... chip... chip...

Chip... chip... chip...

Chip... chip... chip...

~~~O~~~

It turns out there's a second mine in Dawnstar! The two are pretty competitive, so I decided to try both out.

You'll never guess what they mine in Quicksilver Mine.

That's right. Coal.

I'm joking, it's quicksilver.

There are more people in this mine. More picks to join the chorus. But not as well laid out as the other.

~~~O~~~

Taktak... taktak... taktak...

Takatak... takatak... takatak...

Taktak... taktak... taktak...

Takatak... takatak... takatak...

This is the real music of the Orsimer. Even if I'm the only one of us here.

~~~O~~~

This has been a good day.


	20. 2nd of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the second day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

The captain of the ship in the harbour was complaining that his shipment got lost by a careless (read: drunken) crew. Dawnstar's been pretty good to me, even if I've not slept well, so I said I'd go grab it for him. Should make for an interesting day.

Whatever his crew did to lose a cargo THAT far into the mountains, when it was meant to be on the ship, I'm not sure I want to know. Whatever they were drinking to manage it, I want some.

Just ran into a Bosmer who tried to sell me some skooma. I'm... offended. So I introduced him to my warhammer (when I manage to get some orc-steel again, that one will need naming, I think). He was wearing rags, and the fanciest boots you've ever seen. Kind of confusing.

Looks like Fort Dunstad is a fort again. Stormcloaks have moved in (probably sent word from the Dawnstar guards, after I mentioned it). Might not like them too much, but at least they should keep the bandit population at bay.

And if they turn out to be the fanatical sort, like in Windhelm, well... I've cleared this place out of scum once already.

Don't get me wrong, the pale blue of the mountain breed of frostbite spiders is pretty. I'm just ... no more fond of them than I am of the normal kind.

~~~O~~~

An ice cave, full of wolves. What WERE they drinking, to have ended up here? If it was skooma, I'll be having words.

Hmm, maybe that's a good name for a warhammer. Words. I can have Words with people.

Oh... I know this architecture...

There's an ancient Nord something in this cave.

If there are undead, I'll be cross.

I AM CROSS

I have proceeded beyond cross, I am now surly.

Surly has given way to irritated.

Just found some gold ingots down here. Just, sitting on a table. Well, if you're going to arm the dead, might as well give them something shiny too, I guess. Back to surly.

Fun fact about these undead: If you stand behind a fire trap, they're not aware enough to not... stand on it and cook themselves.

I need something to scrub the smell out of my nostrils.

Some silver ingots, too! I hope the people of Dawnstar like Orsimer jewellery styles, because I feel a burst of fine-work at the smithy coming on. I'm not going to say all is forgiven, I'm still surly, but the trip into this damned tomb was at least worth it.

The further into this forsaken Forsaken Cave (they at least named it right), the more I wonder... how did that crew lose their cargo so deep into this tomb? There's been no sign of it yet.

Maybe they dropped it outside the entrance, and one of the undead carried it in? No other sensible explanation presents itself.

Well, that was somewhere between enraging and terrifying. I get to what has to be the main chamber of this tomb, and the undead that attacks me uses something like a dragon Shout, and knocks my hammer out of my hands! I punched one of the other undead until it stopped, then managed to find where my hammer had gone (it's dark in here).

I've found the shipment I was looking for, right in front of one of those walls with a dragon language inscription. This one makes me want to kill something... Or maybe that's just the anger talking.

I guess the shipment being THAT deep in the cave, in what looks rather like a place of honour, gives some weight to the "undead carried it deeper inside" theory.

~~~O~~~

If the ground outside weren't frozen, I'd kiss it. I'm ever so glad to be out of that cave.

A Khajiit caravan was going past just as I came out, talking of bandit troubles on their travels. A stolen amulet.

I said I couldn't promise them anything, but if I found the amulet, I would find them. I hope I do. The bandit camp they told me of is pretty far away, near Whiterun. It'll be a while before I'm back there, I think.

ANOTHER assassin came after me, having been paid a good bounty for my head (or the same one as a few days ago? Who knows). The same black and red leathers, though, so I assume they're from the same group.

The quick spinny sword-and-knife fighting style is interesting, if pretty vulnerable to large hammers.

I had to make a pretty brisk pace to get back to Dawnstar before nightfall. Wouldn't want to be caught on these roads by night, considering what they're like by day. Luckily nothing else tried to eat me on the way.

That captain gave me a good bit of coin for the help, though, so it's not all bad.


	21. 3rd of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Midas, the third day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Dawnstar has been good to me, certainly better than Winterhold or Windhelm. It'll be a cold day in the ashpit before I visit those again willingly.

Come to think of it, it'll be a cold day in those towns as well.

Is it really a walk along Skyrim's roads if the wind isn't awful (in this case, snowing), and you're not getting bitten by wolves? Hopefully it stays at just wolves.

I shouldn't have said that.

Well, it wasn't something trying to eat me. At least, I don't think it wasn't.

Oh Malacath do I ever hope they weren't trying to eat me.

ANOTHER one of those assassins. That makes three now. And all with the same note.

Whoever this Astrid is, I hope they got paid a lot of money for my head, because it's costing them a lot of minions to get it.

An ice wraith from one direction, and two bandits from the other. One of them had a staff that shot fireballs!

One of the bandits, obviously. Ice wraiths have yet to master tool use and fire.

I hope.

Just a pity none of the fireballs hit the wraith, that would have saved me some effort.

Another skooma dealer, waiting on the road. This time, an Argonian wearing rags and the fanciest gauntlets he could find. What is it with these people? Do I have to just ... take down the entire skooma industry one hammer-blow at a time?

~~~O~~~

So this is Morthal.

Seems pretty dismal. I think they actually built it on top of a swamp?

Kind of a creepy feel to it, too.

The maps say this is a hold capital, and they have a Jarl's hall, but to be honest, it's a pretty small town. I think Riverwood actually out-sizes it.

I think I'll keep going, see if I can make Solitude by nightfall.

~~~O~~~

It's nice to know I'm not the only one dealing with dragon attacks.

I see the dragon. The dragon swoops down. The dragon... attacks some of the local wildlife.

I decide to let the dragon be, if it's not going to come after me.

Then I get the absolute pleasure of seeing it attacking a small fort that looks to be overrun with necromancers. That was hilarious.

I think I might have missed a turning somewhere, since I can see Solitude on the eastern horizon, and I was coming at it going west, but I'll say this for the town of Dragon Bridge:

Their bridge certainly is large, impressive, and ... dragony.

A quick stop to ask directions, and I'm on my way.

~~~O~~~

I was going to say Solitude seems nice, but it seems I arrived just in time to make a dramatic first impression: they were beheading a former guard. It seems he let Ulfric Stormcloak escape the city after the mess that started the civil war.

Given that his defense was "what I did was fine for Nords", I'm not sure I've too much sympathy.

Still, not the most pleasant greeting.

Chalk one up to Imperial trade networks, and not hating outsiders! The smith here actually had a few ingots of orc-steel!

Not enough for a full suit, plus a hammer, but a good start along the way. It might mean staying up half the night, but I'm going to wear some orc-steel armour and feel properly dressed for the first time in too long.


	22. 4th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Turdas, the fourth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Well, Solitude keeps getting more interesting. I met the executioner from yesterday, while I was getting some breakfast downstairs in the inn. It seems that a bandit leader escaped him, and to save face he said that they "died during questioning".

He's offered me some good coin to make sure they don't show up later to disprove him.

And I do hate bandits...

That's today's plans sorted, I guess. I've left word at the smithy that if he lays his hands on any more orc-steel, I'll have coin waiting to take it off his hands again.

~~~O~~~

Walking under the great stone arch that supports some of Solitude is really an awe-inspiring sight.

Not sure I'd have built a palace on top of it, though, I'd be too nervous it would end up like Winterhold, lost to the sea.

Maybe it's just the miner in me, worrying at the lack of shoring to hold it up.

Well... that's an odd experience. I've made it all the way to this bandit hideout, and nothing tried to eat me on the way.

I just hope it goes as well inside.

I also hope I don't regret writing that.

Now look here, my dear unknown reader. My good I-hope-you-didn't-take-this-journal-from-my-corpse reader. I know I talk about wearing helmets a lot. I'm an orc who grew up in a mine, and got a little too tall to consistently miss the support beams. I'm an orc who swings a two-handed warhammer.

Helmets seem an obvious thing to me.

Not a single one of the bandits in this cave, with its rather fascinating "our ships are stuck here so we made them architecture" design, was wearing a helmet.

Not one.

There's no good way to put this.

The only way to describe that series of fights... is  **splashy** .

I really need to wash some of this off.

Ew.

Good news: Nothing tried to eat me on the way back to Solitude, despite an encounter with a horker. They're... impressively big. I steered clear.

Also managed to wash some the unpleasantness off.

~~~O~~~

I'll say this for Castle Dour: its dungeon certainly lives up to that name. Not sure I'd ever want to get locked in there. I'll just go in, collect the reward, and leave. Quickly. 

Might have a look around Castle Dour itself, if they don't object. Seems most of the security is focused on keeping armies out, anyway.

Still no word on more orc-steel coming in. Oh well. If there's none in the morning, I might see what the road has for me. At least I've some proper armour on now, if not a full suit.


	23. 5th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Fredas, the fifth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Asking around the inn this morning, I've heard tell of another Orsimer Stronghold to the west of here. I think that would make a fine place for my next destination, even if it involves more cold mountains. Maybe I'll even find some more orc-steel there (that might be where the Solitude smithy has been sourcing theirs).

~~~O~~~

The number of ice wraiths I keep finding on these roads, I'm getting tempted to work out how to put a fire enchantment on my hammer. They'll not appreciate that, I think.

It'd probably help keep me warm while I'm out here, too.

Luckily for me, this one got distracted by a sabre cat. Of course, that meant I had to deal with the cat, too.

Another thief in Imperial armour. I'm starting to wonder, are they wearing stolen armour, or are they deserters? Either is a disturbing possibility. 

This one didn't wait long enough to be able to answer any questions, before he ... fell down.

I just ran across a corpse, lying next to a horse that was fully fitted out with riding tack. The corpse was wearing fairly typical bandit gear, which isn't exactly ideal for these snows. I don't think I should leave the horse here, on its own.

I guess I've got a horse now? At least for a little while.

There is something pleasingly sturdy about this horse.

And not having to walk these roads, and carry everything, is certainly a relief.

Pretty sure I missed a turn in the road somewhere, though.

...Well, it was nice while it lasted. I got off the horse to deal with an animal that was about to attack, and it bolted.

Back to walking, I guess.

I am definitely lost, though.

I just found an Altmer-occupied fort. I can only assume the Stormcloaks either don't know about it, or haven't got the means to deal with it yet.

All the guards were wearing proper Elven plate. Pretty, if you like shiny birds, but a bit flimsy. They were pretty rude, though.

I've got to assume that the path near here leads back to the road, if they get supplies brought in. So that's a start.

Maybe they get supplied by sea, I'm starting to think. Just my luck.

I was getting excited about finding the road again. Then I found someone in black robes fighting a flame atronach. Of course, they both turned their attention to me. Magic remains irritating, but the fireballs being thrown at me were at least a nice change of pace from all this snow.

I was sure I'd have reached the stronghold by now. If I have to sleep in this snow, I'll be put out.

When the proper roads give way to mountain tracks, be warned that you might also find bears along with your wolves.

At least I didn't have to punch this one.

I've heard tales of spriggans, some sort of living tree creature. And now I've fought one. It was looming over the fresh corpse of a hunter and his kill, and I can only assume it was thinking about vengeance.

I really hope the next thing I see is Orsimer, because the sun is getting low...

~~~O~~~

And as I crest that very next hill, what do I see but the wooden palisade and curved longhouse of the stronghold!

The chief decided that the best way to gauge the wandering Orsimer half-dressed in orc-steel was a fist fight. He has a pretty good swing, but I think I impressed some people.

It's good to be among those who understand the Anvil Oath, and my journey.


	24. 6th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Loredas, the sixth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Being the new face around the fire, I was of course the one asked to tell the stories last night. My swearing the Anvil Oath, followed almost immediately by thieving hands taking away my armour, certainly got people talking. I've been told, in no uncertain terms, that I'm to spend my morning in their mine, and my afternoon at their forge.

It's good to be with Orsimer again, if only for a time.

If the Dawnstar mines of iron and quicksilver were a joy, the Mor Khazgur orichalcum mines are pure bliss. Making the music of my people, with my people, and digging the right sort of ore. An iron ore vein is all well and good, but there's nothing like the feel of striking an orichalcum vein, and the anticipation of turning it into orc-steel.

Conversation over the swinging of picks ended up being a discussion of the strongholds. It seems there are more spread around Skyrim than I might have thought!

It seems the one I came across previously, that was all locked up, was Largashbur. They're considered a little odd, as Skyrim Orsimer go, and my new friends here thought it best that I met them first. After all, they have the best mine, the best chief, the best longhall.

They would say that, we all do. But it's a good place to spend some time. I'll probably have to head off tomorrow, though. A visitor is good, but I don't want to overstay my welcome. It's not like a hold capital, with inns and endless houses, here I'm putting someone out of a bed.

It's good to be properly dressed again! It took into the night, but I'm once again clad head-to-toe in orc-steel. I managed to scrape together just enough ore to put it together.

Of course, I'll keep looking for orc-steel on my travels, there's something off-putting about having an orc-steel bow and a quiver full of iron-steel tipped arrows. Something to look forward to, I suppose.

The talk around the fire tonight reminds me that not all Orsimer women get to take the Anvil Oath and set out on their own. There's one here, Borgakh, who is nearly of the age where she'll be sent to be another chief's wife. Can't say I envy her that (especially since chiefs are almost always men), and she doesn't seem too pleased about it either.

The old ways are hard, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A [new character picture](https://64.media.tumblr.com/331da638596a4ceac5eeaa2087324ff6/159ba4db1363363f-e7/s2048x3072/49d6223717e6bd8c4318b44529c33c571c92624a.jpg) appears! I'm getting better at taking them, between lighting and getting the UI out of the way.


	25. 7th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Sundas, the seventh day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's been good to spend time with my people, and put together the last parts of my orc-steel equipment, but I think I must be heading onwards. I'll be back, though.

Markarth is supposed to be south from here. Hopefully I can keep from getting lost on my way, but now that I'm properly dressed and equipped, I feel a bit more confident about dealing with whatever tries to stop me along the way.

Even spiders.

~~~O~~~

And apparently even dragons. Ten minutes' walk from the stronghold.

This one was breathing blizzards rather than firestorms, which was a bit of a change, but not exactly a welcome one. Better that it attacks me, I suppose, than bothering the stronghold. No offence to their chief, but I think I'm getting better at taking them down. Especially with a real orc-steel hammer.

It might be said, by some uncharitable soul, that I am lost.

This is not true.

I may have little idea where I am, less idea where I'm going, and no solid road to follow like I'm used to.

But I am not lost.

I'm just... taking the scenic and adventurous route through these mountain paths and passes, and my destination is wherever I find myself.

Hopefully, that destination will involve someone who can give me directions.

There are a lot of mudcrabs around here. I think I don't mind them, so much, except when I accidentally step on one that's hiding. They're at least better than spiders.

Aha, a road! An actual road! I had almost thought they were something I had only dreamed.

Perhaps I did.

Seems the little road was leading to Karthwasten, a town with a problem with mercenaries. Seems they're trying to muscle in and make sure that the "right people" have control of the mines.

That's basically banditry. In exchange for directions, and perhaps some of their mine's produce, I agreed to have words with the bandits.

I really think that might be what I need to name this hammer.

So, I had words with the leader of the bandits. They were occupying the mine until the owner agreed to give the land up.

And, as predicted, then I had to have Words with him as well.

Helping out silver miners pays better than helping some Jarls. I like these people.

I never thought I'd be grateful for the poorly marked, uneven roads of Skyrim, but they are at least better than random mountain tracks that might just lead wherever goats wanted to go.

Apparently there's a group of local bandits that wear furs and antlers as their Thing? That is very confusing. And not very protective.

Well. The oversized stonework of Windhelm and Solitude is one thing, but is Markarth actually just a repurposed Dwemer city? I'm not sure I'd want to live somewhere with that much chance of being severely haunted.

Seems it's an Imperial-held city, too. A Stormcloak courier, in full uniform, tried to get in the front gate. Arrows happened to him.

~~~O~~~

Solitude's welcome was an Imperial execution. Markarth's was an attempted murder. I say attempted, because he drew his knife much earlier than he should have, and spent too much time shouting about The Forsworn. 

I had Words with him.

Apparently these The Forsworn are those weirdly-dressed bandits that attacked me on the way here? I dislike them already.

I'm just going to go past the markets, maybe greet the smithy, and find a bed. Never mind people trying to act mysterious and hand me secret messages. They can go be mysterious on their own.

Turns out the smith is another Orsimer woman! It was good to sit by her forge fire and talk.


	26. 8th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Morndas, the eighth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I'd like to begin today with my deepest apologies to the people and architects of Whiterun. I know I said some things about your love of stairs. If I'd known you were only trying to prepare me for the ridiculous vertical horror that is Markarth, I'd have been more kind.

I don't think there are even two buildings in this entire ridiculous city built on the same level. They have to be making a point.

I have no idea what point, but maybe neither do they.

On my way to the apothecary (WHY is the Markarth market spread so far apart? It's bad enough that they put stairs everywhere, but then to also make you spend half your day walking from one side of the city to the other?) I met yet another Vigilant of Stendarr. This one was investigating a house for no readily apparent reason, so at least he was distracted from his rants against my god for once.

He seemed keen for help, but I decided that no.

Now that I've made it all the way up here, I think I'll just spend the morning working on my healing kit. Can always use more salves, and something to remove the next inevitable wolf-inflicted case of rockjoint. Thinking I might want to leave Markarth soon, though, if only for the sake of my knees.

I decided to read the note that that guy was trying so secretly to give me yesterday. All it says is to meet him at the Shrine of Talos. If this is another round of Aedra nonsense, I think I'll just leave the city.

Apparently, it's that local bandit group. Or something. They've been causing trouble, the guards are doing nothing (probably involved, really), and he wants me to find out. Because I'm an outsider. That... doesn't entirely make sense, but he's offered money, and it's taking down bandits.

Sensible first step is probably to ask the woman who was attacked. It's a good thing she didn't end up with that knife in her back, or this would be a lot more difficult.

The problem with investigating things in Markarth is all the Malacath-damned stairs. Find one bit of information, go climb a few dozen flights of stairs to follow that thread, and repeat until your knees melt.

If I don't get to hit something soon...

Almost feels like the city guards want to volunteer for that. Just got threatened to stop looking into things, because "they keep the peace around here".

Well. Another thug trying to make me stop investigating. I want to find out who's running this just for revenge, now. But I have some names.

I suppose I should have expected that. One of the names I was following up (the one who sent the thug) told me I'd not be leaving his house alive. Forsworn, the lot of them. Well, I'm leaving the house alive, but I can't say the same for anyone else in there.

One more lead to follow up, and now I'm definitely of a mind to kill everyone involved and take their coin. Only fair, when you're dealing with such an organised bandit clan. Since they apparently run the silver mining operation around here, there should be a decent margin in it.

Just give me an excuse.

Looks like Silver-Blood isn't with the Forsworn, though he was using their 'King' to make them do his bidding. Not much difference there. It seems to have gone poorly for him, since they just tried to kill him.

I got to hit them.

They brought a fireball-throwing wizard with them, which was an irritation. Why can't they just do that when I'm cold?

Sun's gone down. Just time to go tell Eltrys what I've found, then it's back to the inn.

~~~O~~~

Well, fuck.


	27. 9th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the ninth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Prison! Markarth has nine fewer guards than it did yesterday, but there were just too many of them. I'd probably have made it out of the city if not for that damned Vigilant of Stendarr.

The prison here is a silver mine. Fairly sensible, if a bit shitty.

The fact that it's almost entirely full of Forsworn is making me twitchy. I think I might take my opinion of the situation out on them. Just a pity that the damned guards took my armour and hammer.

I'll make do.

A fist-fight with the Orsimer guarding this King in Rags. That was... thrilling. He throws a mean punch. I've been getting too reliant on my weapon and armour, he nearly had me a few times there. But I managed to put him down.

So the whole Forsworn thing is apparently much more complicated than I thought. They probably have a point. But I'm sick of this Madanach talking down to me, and I hold him responsible for me being here. Strings being pulled one way or the other. I'm sick of it.

I'll leave the other Forsworn here to their digging, but I need to find something I can make sharp, and then introduce it to Madanach's throat.

I only hope I can find something that I can make. I won't abandon my oath to Malacath, not here. I need his help here more than ever.

I've managed to trade my way into the materials for a shiv. Basic prison stabbing tool. They were confused when I asked for materials, not just a shiv, but they're not Orsimer. The one guarding Madanach's door understood.

I'm going to spend the morning sharpening it into something that will go through whatever leathery hide this Forsworn King has, and then give it a try.

Now who the OBLIVION tries to summon a giant frost spirit in an enclosed area? That is just a really rude way to fight. I'm glad that King in Rags is a King in Bloody Dirt now.

Not going to help any of the others escape. Too much chance the Forsworn loyalties will run a bit too... kill the King-killer. Seems he had an escape route planned, though. Don't mind if I do.

This city officially makes no sense. I get out of the Dwemer ruins that the mine prison apparently connects to, and that Silver-Blood meets me, congratulates me on a job well done, and declares I've had a full pardon.

I need to get out of Markarth, just for my own sanity.


	28. 10th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Midas, the tenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I'm fairly sure there's meant to be another Orsimer Stronghold to the south of here. Trying to get there seems a better thing to do than staying in Markarth (most things seem a better thing to do than staying in Markarth).

But first, it seems one of the mines near here has been overrun by the Forsworn. For all their claims to not being bandits, they certainly act much more bandit-like than anyone else I've met.

Fighting against these Forsworn (with their damn ice magic interfering with everything) makes me appreciate the Stormcloaks a little more. Sure, they may hate everyone but Nords, and so they're basically not on my side, but at least their rebellion is a stand-up fight, army against army. With these bandits, though... They say they're fighting to reclaim the Reach, since their ancestors once held it, but doing it by attacking the people instead of the army? Not going to get any of my sympathies.

If the Stormcloaks succeed in driving the Empire from Skyrim, anyone who wasn't actually fighting them will probably be alright. If the Forsworn succeed in driving the Nords from the Reach? Well, they seem to have already decided that everyone who isn't one of theirs is their enemy...

More Forsworn on the road, this time attacking some hunters. I wasn't quick enough to save them, but I did avenge them.

I might not be lining up to join the Empire in their fight against the Stormcloaks, but there is one rebellion in Skyrim that I've decided offends me personally.

So this is Dushnikh Yal. A nice Stronghold, but I still want to avoid overstaying my welcome.

The smith here has asked me to take a sword to her daughter, who left the Stronghold. I know what she means by it. It's no easy message, but I will go to Karthwasten and deliver it. It makes me think of my own parents, back in our mine. I only hope they can be proud of what I'm achieving.

I ... do not feel as welcome in this Stronghold as I did in Mor Khazgur. I think they've been separated from our people for too long. The Chief's favourite wife is ... slim, and dainty. I overheard her using her slim and dainty charms on the Chief to make sure she doesn't have to go into the mines.

His tastes are odd.


	29. 11th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Turdas, the eleventh day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I'm setting off early. My excuse to the others here is that I want to deliver the smith's sword to her daughter as soon as may be. And to be sure, I dislike holding it any longer than I must. But in truth, this place just feels ... off, somehow.

~~~O~~~

That was an... unexpected diversion. What looked like a small Forsworn camp turned into a sprawling set of towers built up the side of the mountain, just bursting at the seams with Forsworn.

And two Hagravens.

I'm not exactly fond of the way one of them kept calling me "morsel". I may be delicious, but I hardly want her eating me.

Seems there was some in-fighting going on there. It meant some extra help against the Forsworn, since one of them wanted her tower back from the other.

Are the Forsworn involved with the Hagravens? They almost seemed to be working for them. That would be weird.

To be honest, I'm not sure I actually want to know?

~~~O~~~

The sword is delivered. She understood.

I left her be.

It's a hard thing, but they'll find their peace at some point. I know it.

I think my next destination is Rorikstead, but that's at least a full day's travel from here, and on uncertain roads. Not enough time left in the day to start out now, but too much time left in the day to do nothing.

A little hunting trip in the area just around Karthwasten yielded little, except for a bear attack. Oh well, the pelt seems fairly good.


	30. 12th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Fredas, the twelfth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's now been a month since I left home. Only a month? Somehow, it seems so much longer. Skyrim is full of so many interesting people and places, many of which want you dead. There's been rather a lot of that, this past month. Wolves, spiders, bears, rebels, bandits, bandit rebels, spiders, wolves, spiders, spiders, wolves, and even the occasional spider.

I hate spiders.

~~~O~~~

You'll never guess who I met a few minutes out of Karthwasten. My old friends, the Vigil of Stendarr! It seems that even with their headquarters apparently attacked by vampires, they're keeping up their patrols of the countryside, waylaying passers-by for their beliefs.

If I start wearing an oversized sign of Malacath, do you think they'd both me more, or less? Either could be fun.

This whole land seems to be very fond of crumbled old forts. But not so fond as to keep them occupied to stop unpleasant types from moving in. Do you suppose they're a relic from a previous war? I've heard that the Nords invaded Skyrim, long ago, and so many stone castles seems a good way to subjugate a conquered land with less effort.

That would explain why so many of them have commanding positions over the roads. Control.

Today's example was filled with Forsworn. I didn't feel like breaking down the gate and smashing the place up, so I dodged a few arrows and left them alone.

I'll be back, though.

I just saw a wolf attack a giant.

The wolf seemed to be feeling ... pretty flat, afterwards. (Get it? Flat? Because the giant hit it with a massive club and then stepped on it)

(I thought it was funny, anyway)

Wow. Some regular, not-Forsworn bandits. I'm almost nostalgic.

That was a disturbing sight. A disturbing site.

I just found a house in the middle of nowhere, along the road, where... I think he was trying to raise skeevers? There were bowls set out by the fire with meat in, a skeever head over the mantle, and a lot of skeevers.

And one dead Nord inside.

He didn't look eaten, so it's probably not the skeevers that did it, but I'm really quite disturbed.

~~~O~~~

So this is Rorikstead. Not much, but a good waypoint on the way elsewhere.

I think I might see if I can make it to Falkreath today. That's the one hold capital I haven't been to, yet.

After all of the ... excitement that is mountain roads, these ones through the plains are almost restful. No steep slopes to climb, not even as many wolves.

Back to having signs that point the way to Helgen, though. Not so nostalgic about that.

And now to Falkreath. I don't think I've seen this many earthen graves all in one place before.

And I'm not sure why that disturbs me. Should it disturb me? Or should it disturb me that none of the other cities of Skyrim have such a thing? Perhaps they have some other place for their dead. I hope they aren't using ancient Nord tombs, those don't seem very restful for your eternal rest.

Just enough time to get to the apothecary for some supplies, before I find a bed. I think I'll stay in this place a few days, I've had enough of walking.


	31. 13th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Loredas, the thirteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

What a merry place this is. The rain seems to set the tone for how people in Falkreath are looking at the world. Apparently that graveyard is most of what the people here think about. I'm still going to stay at least the day, but perhaps I'll head back to Whiterun after that. Too many places I've found are creepy, in one way or another, and the worst I can say about Whiterun is that it's got too many stairs (but that was before I saw Markarth).

A morning spent at the apothecary, and I've learned why the city has so many graves in it, and why the rest of Skyrim's cities have so few.

It was apparently, for some time, the 'fashionable' place to be buried. So many battles fought here that they associated it with war and heroes (very Nord), and so if you were anyone who thought they were important, you tried to be buried here as well.

I suppose it makes some sense, but it does rather concentrate all of the creepy energy in one place. If ground-buried dead start to rise, as well as those in tombs, remind me to be as far from Falkreath as possible.

The smith has mentioned that there's a "particularly fine" dog that's been seen on the roads around here. And he wants me to try to lure it in for him.

As far as errands for people go, it seems the least likely to have me end up having to run half way across the hold, or face down hordes of the undead, so I agreed.

~~~O~~~

THE DOG TALKS.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. As the dog itself said, we have dragons now, so what's a talking dog into the bargain?

Of course, since he's apparently the (former?) companion of Clavicus Vile, Daedric Prince of Wishes, I suppose that's not too surprising. I hope Malacath will forgive the interruption of my helping out another Prince's lost companion.

I shouldn't be surprised that this got weird, should I?

I think that this is a good summary of my life now. I'm following a talking dog, and we're attacked by a dragon. Figures. Things are weird enough already. And he did mention the giant flying lizards...

And a troll. Because of course there's a troll.

Very grateful I infused Words with some fire magic back in Markarth.

The Malacath-damned, Clavicus-Vile-damned dog led me straight into Helgen.

I knew it was around here somewhere, but I really wasn't ready to face it again. Especially not so soon after another dragon attack. The place looks almost exactly like it did last time, or at least last time after the giant dragon was through with it.

Though at least it's not on fire now.

The place is an absolute ruin, there's been almost no attempt to clean it up. I wouldn't want to poke at the rubble, there are probably still bodies under there.

Bandits have moved in now, of course. I suppose it's only fitting. I might come back and deal with them at some point, but I'm really not ready to spend more time around here than I absolutely have to.

Damn that dog.

Finding the dog was supposed to be quick. It was not quick. Finding the dog was supposed to be simple. It was not simple. Finding the dog was not supposed to involve any creepy abominations. So far it has involved dragons, a troll, and vampires.

It's late, and I'm nowhere near Falkreath any more. I apparently need to go find some particular axe to reunite the dog and its master. I'm going to find somewhere to sleep, and then declare that  **tomorrow's** problem.

According to the dog, Clavicus Vile is one of the trickster types, and I shouldn't make any deals with him. The axe is apparently from someone else's deal. They asked for a cure to their daughter's lycanthropy, and they got... an axe. I will need to be very careful what I say, when I bring the axe, and I will need to have faith.

_ Malacath, prince of the spurned and the outcast, watch over your faithful and preserve my soul from harm. As I swore on the Anvil, I am your servant, and wish only to serve as long as I might. _


	32. 14th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Sundas, the fourteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Sleeping in the snow is not how I was planning on ending yesterday, but that stupid dog ruined all sorts of plans. I just checked my map, for where Clavicus Vile said to go. It's out beyond Solitude. I guess this is a multiple-day endeavour even more than I thought. Step one, get back to civilisation.

... Step one, work out where I even am.

~~~O~~~

I've managed to work my way back to a road. Looks like the road between Helgen and Ivarstead? One place I don't want to go, and one place that's in entirely the wrong direction.

What a fascinating decision. I'll try to avoid Helgen, but that's the way I need to be travelling.

Well. There's Helgen again. And this road is seeming familiar.

This is the way I came in, on the cart. For execution, interrupted by a dragon.

Wanting to run the other way until I reach Morrowind is fair and reasonable, right? Right.

Screw it. They brought me here to die, I survived. This time, I'm armed. I'm going to march right into Helgen, and kill every bandit I see. I'll not get anything from running from this.

The charred corpses on stakes outside the town are a creepy touch. That has to have been the bandits. Now I really hate them.

...The execution block is still there. I'm going to be sick.

I'm going to leave now. I've been here, busted up a few bandits, but I'm leaving. And going to try not to come back.

~~~O~~~

And there's Bleak Falls Barrow on the mountains above me. Another charming memory that I'm going to try not to revisit. But I should almost be to Riverwood, which was at least not too awful to me.

Just got attacked by bandits, who inadvertently led me back to their hideout - an old iron mine. It's all cleared out now, of course. But that was good for taking my mind off of ... things.

And of course, there are wolves.

Made it to Riverwood, but I think I'll press on to Whiterun before nightfall. There's enough time in the day, and better beds to be had when I get there.

Being here is bringing back memories, though luckily better ones than Helgen. The first place in Skyrim anyone actually treated me with some respect, and gave me a bed for the night. 

~~~O~~~

Whiterun still has too many stairs in it, but after Markarth, I can forgive them a little. I'm almost used to it by now.

I won't be staying in town for too long, but I went up to pay my respects at the Jarl's hall (too many stairs), and paid a visit to the court wizard. His enchanting supplies and equipment were useful. I'm still wrapping my head around things, but my gauntlets should give me a better grip on my hammer, and my boots a better grip on the ground, so I can put a bit more beans behind each swing. 


	33. 15th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Morndas, the fifteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

And back on the road again. I am looking forward to when I don't have this dog following me. Between the barking and the sarcastic quips, it's just getting a bit too much for me.

Whiterun's Western Watchtower. At least this ruin is still occupied by hold guards, and didn't get left to the bandits. I think it's a less awful memory for me, because this was the first dragon attack I could do something about. Stripped of armour, tied up, and against an even bigger dragon? I was helpless. Armour, a hammer, and a smaller dragon, plus reasonably competent hold guards as backup, that's a little more reasonable a proposition.

I must admit, I'm a little curious about the Vigil of Stendarr. What are they trying to achieve, exactly? I just had another run in with a pair of their fanatics, and it almost seems like "harass any faithful Orsimer you come across" is on their list of orders? Aedra worshippers are so confusing.

If these thieves in makeshift Imperial armour are deserters from the Legion, what's going on with their leadership to let it happen? None have been Nord or Imperial themselves, but I hear the Legion is a little more open in its recruiting than the Skyrim Belongs To The Nords crowd.

Perhaps something that warrants further investigation...

I've been attacked by people who want to claim my gold. I've been attacked by people who want to claim my soul. I've even been attacked by people who want to claim my blood, that one time.

But today, I was attacked by someone who... thinks I look like I drink milk? I'm assuming it's meant to be an insult.

Nice armour, but they forgot the helmet.

This group of bandits did a smart thing, in setting up their own fort across the road from Whiterun to Solitude. Possibly quite a lucrative spot to be - and not even a ruin of an old fort! They built this one from logs.

This group of bandits did a stupid thing, in attacking me. Oh well.

...I think I took a wrong turn somewhere. I can see Solitude now, but that's not where this road seems to be going.

I can see my destination, I don't need to follow this road, right? I can't get any more lost than I am...

More lost? No.

More soggy? Oh my yes.

So it turns out that that turn off the road that I took was heading straight into the swamp. Not doing that again in a hurry...

~~~O~~~

Damp I may be, perhaps even moist, but I've made it to Solitude before nightfall. I think I'll stay here at least a day, I'm sick of too much time on the road.


	34. 16th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the sixteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I don't think the dog is happy with my decision to stay in Solitude for the day. Between the barking at everything, and the stupid commentary when no-one else can hear, I'm not exactly looking to extend my time with it either. But if I'm going to keep getting into unexpected encounters with vampires and spiders and wolves and spiders and trolls and spiders, I need to actually be prepared before I go running off into mysterious caves.

My plan for the morning is to make sure my set of healing salves and tonics are all in order. Given how many things want to eat me out there, that's hardly an unreasonable idea, right?

I'm starting to wonder if there's some armour enchantment I can learn that would help me there. There are so many things that could help...

Well, it seems fate is smiling on me today.

I'd just finished restocking my healing kit (and brewed a few extra potions for trade, to pay for some extra ingredients), and what do I find in the market but an amulet with just the enchantment I was hoping to find! Of course, it cost me half the coin in my pockets, but given how things keep going for me out in the lands of Skyrim, I'm going to think of that as an investment.

I managed to beg some time at the court wizard's enchanting workbench. Pulling apart the threads of magic to see how it was done is always slow, careful work, and more careful this time since I've no way of replacing it except by pure luck, but I managed to get there.

Putting the same magic onto my breastplate took even longer - not helped at all by the CONSTANT whining of that idiotic dog. It's not my fault it got separated from its tricker jerk of a master, and even with an extra day spent off the road, it'll still be a faster reunion than it'd get wandering the roads of Falkreath and whining.

Anyway, the armour. I figured my breastplate was the best thing to put this enchantment on, since that's where most of the vital things are, and where I tend to get hit the most. Putting it back on, there's definitely a weird tingly feeling to the magic, and I think a couple of old scars are starting to smooth out. It's a bit weird.

The people around here are ... strange, to say the least.

I was taking a quick trip via the docks (the wine merchant said she was having trouble getting a shipment through the local custom house, and I was hoping to get some of her spiced wine, seemed a fair trade) and one of the guards on the way back told me my armour is "ugly and strong, like those that forged it".

Was he insulting me? Trying to flirt with me? I'm not sure which is worse.

If this were Stormcloak territory, I think I might have hit him. But for now, making nice with the Empire. They're less stupid (not NOT stupid, just... less).


	35. 17th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Middas, the seventeenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

The damned dog (I suppose it may actually be damned) made sure I got up early today. I didn't kick it. But I was sore tempted.

I guess we go find this trickster's prank of an axe, then.

~~~O~~~

...Of course. I step outside the gates of Solitude, and it starts raining. Someone has a sense of humour.

Another assassin, in their dramatic black and red leathers. Argonian, this time.

I wonder who I offended enough to keep sending these ineffectual killers against me? They must have paid a fair pile of coins, for it to be this urgent that I die. Should I be keeping tally of how many people it's cost them so far? I don't have a name for the employer, just the one in charge of the assassins. If I ever meet this Astrid, I'll have Words with them.

Just another form of bandit on the roads, I guess.

So here's the cave that the dog wants me to search.

And only a few more wolf attacks on the way.

~~~O~~~

Well that was a dismal little cave, but an Oblivion of a fight. A flame atronach, AND a storm atronach, AND a wizard. Glad of the new enchantment I put on my armour, I think one of the ice bolts that got shot at me broke something.

Of course, constant magical healing is a BIZARRE feeling in its own right.

In other news, this axe is creepy. I don't want to hold on to it any longer than I have to. Not going to stop via Solitude again tonight, I'm going to see how far back south I can get to get this over with.

~~~O~~~

If I was trying to decide on a side to pick in this civil war, I think that encounter would have clinched it. A trio of Stormcloak footpads saw me, and IMMEDIATELY drew steel. I think it was an intimidation tactic? Skyrim for the Nords, and all that.

Unfortunately for them, I was not intimidated. Too much more of that, and I might just see if the Legion needs an angry Orsimer lass on their payroll.

I wonder what they were doing so close to Solitude, though. An advanced scouting party? You'd think they'd be trying to lay low, so deep into enemy territory. One of the odd effects of a civil war I suppose.

You know, these mountain trails may have fewer Stormcloaks and bandits, but the increase in unexpected bear and unexpected cliff edge might make it not worth the shortcut, I think...

That was unpleasantly precarious. I think I'll stick to the roads for now... I seem to have lucked my way into a familiar landmark (Dragon Bridge certainly does have a very dragony bridge). So, I'm not lost.

Now when I say the roads have fewer unexpected bears, does the universe take that as a challenge?

A thousand blessings on whoever decided that crafting road signs was how they wanted to earn a living. May they continue this good work.

I can see Whiterun from the road here, and by the timings, it would be a good place to stop for the day. It would be the sensible thing to do, I'm sure. But there's something about this axe... A creation of a trickster god, and a cruel one at that. I think I'll not take it among civilised people. I shudder to think what might happen.

I had to pass through Riverwood. I didn't stop. I kept the axe covered. I want to be done with this.

I had to pass through the ruins of Helgen, too. The axe felt right at home here. I think that's worse.

Made it to the cave where the shrine to Clavicus Vile is hidden. It's getting dark.

Rest now, trickster gods tomorrow.

The dog is acting personally offended at my stopping here. Like I'd do that just to spite it for the barking and the sarcastic quips and the barking and the getting under my feet every other step. I'm not QUITE that petty, but don't tempt me.


	36. 18th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Turdas, the eighteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I dreamed about the axe last night. Of everything it could let me do. I could smite down every enemy that stood against me, bring peace to Skyrim, and dig a gold mine, with this axe. There's certainly a lot of revenge to get done, and it might be nice to take over one of the holds here, set myself up as Jarl. I imagine they have to run around the countryside a lot less. They have people for that

It's tempting... Let's see what Clavicus Vile has to say.

Strike a deal with the Prince, keep the axe, kill the dog... it's a nice axe, and a pretty woeful dog... I'll have to ... NO! I am the Sworn of Malacath and the Anvil, I wield nothing but that which I have wrought myself. This axe is an affront. But when Daedra fight amongst themselves, who am I to stand between them? 

Maybe if I just...

No.

Take the axe away. Get it away from me.

I've made it out of that damned-by-every-Daedra-and-Aedra cave. I did not take the axe.

Malacath protects me, even though I falter. My Anvil Oath is a shield against temptation. Damn but it was a close-run thing. 

I need to get back to Whiterun, I think. That place is, at least sane.

~~~O~~~

As I get further from the cave, and further from the axe, my head is clearing. Why was I even tempted by such an ugly, wicked-feeling axe? I was right not to take it into Whiterun last night, that would have ended poorly. Now it's back where it belongs, and good riddance.

I saw a magnificent stag on the way to Whiterun. Sweat of my brow for the bow. Sweat of my brow for the arrow. Sweat of my brow for the kill.

It was a clean shot, and I start to feel better. My oath holds true.

Just attacked by cultists who were calling on someone called Miraak. I think they're the same group as attacked me in Ivarstead? I don't like fighting mages, they won't hold still long enough to get a really good swing.

I have no idea what I did to upset this cult, but they're starting to annoy me.

Finally back in Whiterun. I'm going to buy every bottle the inn has, rent a room, and then empty every bottle.

Six bottles of ale, six bottles of mead, twelve bottles of wine... That should take the edge off...

**_[unintelligible scrawl covering a page and a half, partially obscured by ink splotches and spilled alcohol]_ **


	37. 19th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Fredas, the nineteenth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

  1. Hate. Everything.



If that bard doesn't stop playing that stupid drum first thing in the morning, I'm going to make them eat it. Sideways.

There are a lot of empty bottles here. My head hurts.

My hammer is lodged in the wall. I guess we had a disagreement.

It livens up the place.

Look. I realise that these healing potions are meant for life-saving situations when I'm out in the wilderness. But if I go outside with this hangover, I'm going to kill someone, so really it IS a life-saving situation. 

First stop. The apothecary. I'm sure they have something for hangovers.

They did not have something for Orsimer-grade hangovers. Maybe I'll try the court wizard.

So many stairs.

The wizard did not have anything for hangovers. I wanted to yell at him, but yelling is a bad idea right now.

Well now. This is a turn up. Looking through the apothecary and the general store (I wish that Breton was a little quieter), it seems there are some interesting things to put together. I've heard of people infusing the hearts of lesser daedra into ebony to enhance its properties, and what do I find, but the heart of a lesser daedra being sold as an alchemical ingredient, and nearly enough ebony to forge a hammer. This will make for a very interesting time indeed.

I'll need to study the method before I try anything at the forge... not that I should be trying to go anywhere near the forge today, until my head stop aching.

It's getting a little better, and it's starting to get towards evening. 

Think I'll get an early night. And nothing to drink.


	38. 20th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Loredas, the twentieth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

My head is better. This morning I remembered the Khajiit merchant who'd been robbed of a particular amulet not too far from Whiterun, and I think busting up a bandit hideout is just the sort of thing I need after the past few days.

~~~O~~~

The cross-country running once again proves itself a great way to meet wolves and sabre cats. I'm not sure what it is aboutme that makes me seem such good prey to them, but it never works out well.

So this is the bandit lair. Seems a little small, but I suppose that's to be expected.

~~~O~~~

Ow.

Ow.

Of all the problems, I thought I might run into in this little escapade, the healing magic I put onto my armour is not what I was expecting.

Note to self: If you get shot with an arrow, it finds a gap in your armour, and sticks into flesh? Pull it out before the healing magic can kick in. Having to re-cut the wound to pull the arrow out again, after you've healed around it, is NOT A PLEASANT EXPERIENCE.

Maybe this is why mages and enchanters get trained in things for so long. I'm sure someone would have warned me about this outcome, if I'd not been quite so self-taught.

Or maybe they wouldn't have, people are weird.

I have the amulet now. Not that I have any idea where to find the Khajiit. Their caravans are usually pretty predictable, though, so I can hold onto it until I run into them again.

~~~O~~~

There's a fort just near here, that I'm fairly certain is still held by bandits.

Oh what's this, an unguarded little water pipe entrance? Don't mind if I do.

The number of dead skeevers down here is disturbing. Better that than living ones trying to eat me, I guess...

I just met the strangest person. Apparently, she cooks and cleans at Fort Greymoor, no matter who's occupying the place. That is... disturbing. Has nobody tried to remove her, or... has nobody succeeded? I'm going to stay out of her way, whatever's going on.

Of course, what creepy bandit fort would be complete without an underground prison that smells of death? The fact that they have the body of a troll on a table, apparently part way through being... dissected? butchered?... just adds to that creepy mystique.

Look at me, waxing poetic about how creepy this place is. I'd say I need to get out more, but I think this IS out. I need to stay in more. But not drink so much.

This was a good little detour. A solid number of bandits, most of them without helmets, and a couple that even indulged me in an archery duel from across the courtyard. It was good to get a little more practice with my bow against moving targets, should be useful next time I'm stuck in the forest and want to hunt something tasty.

Well now, it seems today is just determined to give me things to have Words with. Just as I got to the Western Watchtower, they were attacked by a dragon. Again!

This time, it was an ice-breathing dragon, which is a bit of a change. It didn't like the flame enchantment I have on Words, I think. It also got rather distracted by a giant that was in the area. Together, we managed to club it into submission.

~~~O~~~

Made it back to Whiterun with plenty of time to work on the new warhammer. I'm going to call this one Words, as well. I think it's a good running joke. I'm sure it'll get old at some point, but then, so will I.

I must say, there's something... particularly nasty about how this hammer looks. Maybe it's the eerie red glow from the infused heart, or the way the shape came together... I pity whoever gets in the way of this hammer.

I wouldn't want to make a full suit of armour out of this sort of technique, I think the heart-infused feel of it entirely surrounding me would get to be too much, but I'm on the lookout for ideas for what to make a new suit of armour out of. The orc-steel is good, but I feel like I'm getting that bit better at smithing, and at finding materials. Maybe I can do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another [character picture](https://64.media.tumblr.com/942fe658050df0d479e7ba99f3a3da99/faa3f284b80ce1da-40/s2048x3072/2062a60e0af09e7a448d13a3e58a75d95ed03552.jpg) appears!


	39. 21st of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Sundas, the twenty-first day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Yesterday was pretty satisfying, and I've got this new hammer that needs testing out. And it seems like there's a bounty from the Jarl for another bandit hideout that needs clearing. Some relaxation, some testing of my new hammer, and earning a little coin. What more could a girl ask for?

~~~O~~~

So far, the road has had wolves, and bandits, and even a sabre cat. The new hammer is doing rather well for me so far. There's a very satisfying crunch when it lands.

Well now. This hammer was an excellent idea. Cracked through full iron-steel plate on the bandit leader, like it wasn't even there. That was just delightful.

For me, at least. I don't think the bandits enjoyed the experience that much.

The bandit towers were an interesting one to clear out. Lots of places that you might fall off, especially the bridge over the gorge. Whoever designed all the old stone forts around Skyrim, can you please learn the mystical, ethereal technology that is HANDRAILS?

You know, there are two real problems with taking out these little bandit hideouts. First, there's never quite enough bandits in any one of them to get properly angry at. Second, the bounty that the Jarl pays seems to be somewhere on the low side of pitiful. I think I got paid more for walking to the docks.

Oh well. At least there are fewer bandits out there, now. And there's the loot the bandits had stolen, which should fetch a few more coin.

~~~O~~~

Seems there's another bandit camp that's been causing problems for someone in Whiterun. A stolen ancestral sword, no less! Well, his father's sword, but what is an ancestral sword but someone's father's sword, a few generations later. This seems a more reasonable thing than a tiny bounty from the Jarl.

It's a little late in the day, but this camp isn't far, and worse comes to worst, I can find somewhere to set up camp. It's not like the frigid mountains that I keep getting stuck in.

Looks like this place is mostly a poacher's camp, rather than just the regular bandits. Interesting.

The partially-butchered mammoths are an interesting touch. I'm surprised that the giants haven't flattened this place already.

Regular oversized spiders are bad enough, but that one must have been twice their size. I do not like this new information.

I don't think anyone in this bandit-filled mine lasted more than a single Word from me. That's a rather satisfying outcome.

Oh-ho, what's this? Seems there's a spell, all written out for me here, that transmutes iron to silver, and silver to iron. That could be rather useful, if I ever find myself a little too short of coin. Perhaps tomorrow, I'll dig up some of the iron down here, and see how it goes.

~~~O~~~

The bandits are all dealt with, and the sword I was looking for retrieved, but it's a bit late. There's a reasonable bed here, and I don't think anyone would mind if I used it for the night.

Hold on a moment, I'll ask.

...

Nope, nobody raised any objections, they just sort of lay there.

Good night.


	40. 22nd of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Morndas, the twenty-second day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So I was thinking about this transmutation spell, and I think it must either be mostly unknown (perhaps even secretly developed), or there must be mage rules against its use. Otherwise, mages would be the richest people, or gold would become worthless, or the economy would become meaningless.

I'm going to have to keep it quiet, and only use it when I really need the coin. Otherwise, I might find myself waking up one morning with my throat slit... or, not waking up... you know what I mean.

Amren was grateful for getting his father's sword back. Didn't have coin to spare (understandable), but he did show me a few interesting moves for fighting sword-and-shield. 

Not as useless as it might seem, given I fight with a warhammer. I might not use the moves myself, but it's always good to know the tricks someone might try to use against you, so you can prepare for them.

I think I've worked out why I'm feeling so ... uninspired, at the moment. I have no real direction.

Take down a bandit hideout, go to the next town, and what?

I need to find something to do to make a difference. Maybe I SHOULD go back to Solitude, and find out if the Imperial Legion could use my services. Not if I'm going to end up just another rank-and-file soldier, but I'm sure I could negotiate for something that can actually use my skills.

Just need to wrap things up in Whiterun, and I'll start my way up there, I think.

It's got to be more interesting than this.

~~~O~~~

I'm impatient. Back on the road I go. Let's see how far I can get before nightfall (hopefully somewhere with a warm bed).

I'll say this for clearing out bandit-occupied forts: it certainly makes the roads quieter. Looks like Greymoor has been taken over by the Legion already. And a good thing too.

That... was not the road to Solitude. It seems to have been the road to a graveyard, with the requisite dead-who-are-heavily-armed. Skeletons this time, rather than walking Nord jerky. Still creepy. Not fond. Do not recommend.

And now I'm lost.

What is my life turning into, that being attacked by a dragon is about as unexpected as being attacked by a wolf? There is something very strange about this.

At least this one did me the courtesy of landing right next to me to start the fight. I had Words with it.

I love this hammer.

~~~O~~~

Aha! It seems that dragon-filled mountain pass was leading me reasonably directly to Morthal.

Still a dismal place.

But at least I know where I am now, and can get back on actual roads.

I still hate spiders.

I can see Solitude on the horizon now. Say what you want about grand architecture (and I will), but it does make navigation easier.

Not going to repeat the mistake of trying to wander through the swamp, but I'm getting closer.

Ah, and the dragon bridge at Dragon Bridge. See above.

~~~O~~~

Made it to Solitude after dark. The guards at the gate were none too pleased with having to open it again to let me in. I managed to convince them, but showing up at night, heavily armed, demanding entrance... something about that made them nervous.

I wonder why.


	41. 23rd of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the twenty-third day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So, I suppose now that I'm here, it's time to go offer my services to the Legion. Better them than the Stormcloaks, by all means.

If they offer me a place third from the left in the shield wall, I might just refuse. But if they've made it this far, they can't be that stupid.

Just hope this isn't a mistake.

Of course, the man in charge of the Legion is the one who was going to have me executed at Helgen.

But, apparently surviving that mess means I have something going for me, and it was all a misunderstanding.

Not the best start.

Well now. No usual process, just a test. By clearing out one of the abandoned, bandit-infested fortresses on my own. By her logic, either I'm extra useful to her, or no longer her problem. It's a pretty direct approach, and the honesty is refreshing.

This morning is looking up already.

Huh. Another one of those deserters-or-armour-thieves thieves. Almost symbolic, to be attacked by them on my initiation to the Legion. They're so SMUG about how they're going to take all my money.

Briefly.

That was ... not my smartest decision.

It all turned out well, and was rather satisfying. But don't do a frontal assault, right in the front gate, if the walls around the courtyard are littered with archers. Maybe shoot some of the archers yourself BEFORE running in the front gate with a hammer.

If I'm going to be dealing with more organised armies than just bandits, I should probably start thinking about tactics a little more.

Just as soon as I finish digging these arrows out. Damn healing magic, getting ahead of itself...

I'm impressed! One of the bandits inside the fort was actually wearing a helmet! He's dead, of course, but he lasted a little longer, and died a little less ... splashily. Good for him. Well, good except that I came along.

~~~O~~~

So, I'm now an Auxiliary in the Imperial Legion. At least the oath was on my honour, and not some of their Aedra. I feel better about that.

And now, we're off to a Nord ruin to recover some ancient artefact. I can see some undead-smashing in my future. Hooray. Of course, it's half way across Skyrim from here. 

Back on the road, I suppose. I wonder how far I can get tonight.

Managed to find a Legion camp just as night was falling. They managed to spare me a bedroll in one of their tents, and it was good to sleep without the snow falling on me. With Words tucked in next to me, with its flame enchantment, I was almost comfortable.


	42. 24th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Middas, the twenty-fourth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Sleeping in a Legion camp was an interesting experience. The singing was certainly different to when you sleep in an inn.

Back on the road...

So far, the soldier's life seems to be vaguely adequate beds, snow, walking, and dealing with wolves. It's all rather familiar, I must say.

Sometimes things work out with a very satisfying blend. I was happened across by a couple of Vigilants of Stendarr, those old reliable ranting jerks. They were just starting to preach at me about something or other (I wasn't really listening) when a large frostbite spider came across us. I left them to deal with the spider, and went on my way. Hopefully they managed to cause some problems.

So, Fort Dunstad that I cleared of its bandit problem some little while ago... looks to be full of Stormcloaks now. I might just go AROUND it, rather than through. I'm not exactly dressed in Legion uniform just at the moment, but there's probably some rule that would mean I'd have to fight them, or they'd have to fight me, and then it just gets awkward.

I'll probably get sent back here to clear it out again at some point, that seems to be my lot in life.

Exploring an ancient Nord ruin, probably with undead in it, and the Stormcloaks got there first? I'm not sure how I feel about this, but I guess it's time to show my usefulness.

~~~O~~~

No undead yet, which is a relief. It looks just the place for them though. 

Fighting actual soldiers is a lot more engaging, I must say. And Every. Single. One. was wearing a helmet! Will miracles never cease?

Looks like they're trying to set ambush points to slow us down. Clever. Just a pity they're fighting ME.

We're starting to see what seems to be undead-made-dead, along with Stormcloaks-made-dead, so I guess I will have to deal with them today after all. The Legate called them bonewalkers, which is a pretty interesting name.

Having company for a push through one of these tombs is a nice change. It's not just me and the undead. Even if the other legionnaires mean I have less room to have Words with people, unless I want them caught in the whatever-the-hammer-swinging-equivalent-of-crossfire-is.

Oh, and there are the undead. Woken up by my opening one of the fancy gates, of course.

They're less creepy when you have company. I could get used to this. We did lose a few of the men to them, which is unfortunate.

Of course, the crown that we're here for... was being worn by a particularly strong undead. That one took more than a few Words to stay down. I think it was using some of the dragon language Shouts that the Greybeards say I can learn? One of them made my hammer fly right out of my hand, which is pretty upsetting in the middle of a pitched battle.

There was another one of those dragon language inscribed walls at that back of the chamber, and more glowy magic happened. I think this new word of power is about slowing things down? Could be useful.

I've been told to take the crown back to Solitude. Hooray, more cross-country running on my own!

It really is an interesting crown. I can see why they say it's set with dragon's teeth. I'd believe that. They say whoever wears it has the rights of the true High King of Skyrim. Of course, I swore my oath to the Empire, and so I support their candidate. But right now, it's me that has it.

High Queen Zulga... has a nice ring to it, but there's probably a lot of paperwork in that job. I'll stick to things that involve hammers.

~~~O~~~

How many Orsimer does it take to refill an oil lamp?

A true orc isn't afraid of the dark!

...it's possible that too much time trudging through snowy mountain passes does strange things to the mind.

This shortcut through the mountains might have involved going down a few precarious slopes that I'd not want to climb, but I think it'll shorten the trip back. I recognise this mining camp from the trudge the other way.

Even with my shortcut through the mountain pass, and another shortcut through the swamps (still don't like the swamps), it was still well after dark when I got in to Solitude. Luckily, "Legion Auxiliary on urgent official business" is a bit more acceptable to the gate guards than "heavily armed stranger on personal business". Let's hope the General is still awake.

And I'm to be back on my way to Whiterun. Seems that the Stormcloaks are planning an attack there, and we need to convince the Jarl to accept support.

Hopefully, the Legion sending a Thane of Whiterun will help convince him.


	43. 25th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Turdas, the twenty-fifth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I joined the Legion to get some direction in my life, and I suppose I have that. I'm being directed to go all over the place.

Better than sitting around one city wondering what to do with myself, I suppose. Hopefully it'll make a difference.

There are some Khajiit traders outside of Solitude at the moment. Not the ones I need to return that amulet to, but I'm sure I'll find them again. I seem to be on the move a lot now. Just have to keep an eye out.

I just saw a sabre cat being attacked by two huge mudcrabs. Peak comedy, and I'm staying out of it.

I was having a pretty good run. Not many notes for the morning on the road. I'm starting to enjoy the almost meditative nature of the travel, nothing but one foot in front of the other, and watch the leagues melt by. Of course, the problem with that is that if something wants to eat you, you have to be careful that you don't miss it.

That wolf got a good bite in. Not happy about that.

I must say, this has been an odd trip. The fewest things to try to eat me on a trip so far! Two wolves, and a run in with a skooma dealer.

Are the roads getting clearer, or are my standards slipping, to be pleased over only two wolves trying to eat me?

~~~O~~~

Nords continue to confuse me. The Jarl of Whiterun, having accepted that the Stormcloaks are going to attack his city, has told me to deliver an axe to Ulfric Stormcloak himself. In his capital city.

I tried suggesting that maybe one of his own troops, perhaps one who isn't a member of the Imperial Legion, might be able to do it more safely, but he wouldn't hear of it. Duties of a Thane, and all that.

Apparently one manly man Nord giving another manly man Nord his axe is a way of making them declare either peace or war. I suppose it has some efficiency to it, if you find words hard.

Looks like I'm back on the road in the morning, and off to Skyrim Belongs To The Nords Town.


	44. 26th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Fredas, the twenty-sixth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's raining. I know, you're shocked.

I'm hoping nothing ridiculous happens for what's really my first trip into actually hostile territory. It's probably a good thing I got permission to stick with my orc-steel armour, rather than changing into a Legion Auxiliary's uniform. That would make getting into Windhelm a rather tiring endeavour.

Another dragon attack, again breathing frost magic.

I've been hearing about some groups that make armour out of the bones of creatures they've defeated, for protection and as a symbol.

I'm now pretty clearly a dragon slayer.

I think I should start collecting their bones and scales, and start trying to work out how to turn it into armour. If anything will look more impressive than orc-steel... Damn but they're heavy, though. Should be good solid armour eventually.

There's something very satisfying about going past a former bandit hideout that you 'visited' and being greeted with nothing but silence. Maybe I am managing to make a difference here and there, after all.

More of those weird masked cultists. They were pretty clear on what they're upset about, me daring to call myself "the true Dragonborn". It's not like I go around claiming it.

Definitely going to need to deal with them at the source, sooner or later. The whole 'run backwards while throwing fireballs' thing is really annoying.

I'm almost certain I'm inside Ulfric's borders by now, but I've yet to run in to any Stormcloaks. Wolves, yes. Bears, oh my yes. But no Stormcloaks.

And here's Windhelm. Now that I'm looking at it from the perspective of "some day we'll have to take this city", the architecture starts to make a lot more sense. The main entrance bridge has multiple gatehouses along it, and the walls anywhere else would be difficult to deal with.

A pity I can't just end the war now. I might have sworn service, but a suicide mission is hardly on the list of jobs I'll take. I could take him down, and maybe a few dozen guards, but he has more than a few dozen guards.

Oh well.

~~~O~~~

Carrying a message for the Jarl got me inside.

Presenting the axe was understood.

It was all very... brief.

And now, it's pretty clear that they're going to attack Whiterun. Not going to stay in Windhelm a moment longer, that's news that needs to get delivered right away. I need to get out before the army starts mustering for the attack, too. Might not get back otherwise.

THAT wolf definitely seemed like a Stormcloak sympathiser.

Not so many notes from the run back. Best to just run, and deliver this news.

After running from Whiterun to Windhelm to Whiterun in a day, I am still annoyed at the stairs on the way to the Jarl's hall. Just unnecessary.

~~~O~~~

Looks like the Stormcloaks were fairly close behind me. I'll get no sleep tonight.


	45. 27th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Loredas, the twenty-seventh day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So that's what a real battle is actually like. Not a bandit raid, or animal attack, or dragon attack, but a battle.

It was chaotic, it was messy, it was... thrilling. My hammer, my bow, and my comrades, against an onrushing horde of the enemy. In a way, it was all very simple. 

Terrifying, but simple.

The Stormcloaks went for a frontal assault. I don't like catapults hurling pots of fire at the city I'm in.

We managed to drive them back, and the Legion is well garrisoned here now. I've been ordered to get back to Solitude and report to the General, rather than help with the cleanup efforts.

Hooray, more walking. I managed to get a few hours shut-eye in the barracks, at least.

The road seems... oddly quiet, after the battle. There are a few more Legion patrols around, which I suppose helps.

The thing about that battle... Sure, I was in danger, but I was in control. No bound hands, no lack of armour, no lack of weapon (though I'm rather lacking in arrows, after letting so many fly). It was me, some targets, and some backup.

Oh the things you see while travelling. There's something very satisfying about a Vigilant of Stendarr being killed by a bear. Saves me some trouble.

~~~O~~~

Well now, seems I'm moving up in the Legion. I've been promoted to Quaestor, which makes me an officer! That should make things more interesting.

I've been allowed a few days rest, after the battle at Whiterun, and after that I'm on for 'special duties', since I'd be wasted as a regular soldier.

This should be interesting.

Word around Solitude is that the war is actually starting to heat up now. It was all posturing before, but now that Ulfric has actually moved against one of the other holds instead of just playing at politics to get them on side, it's time for open battles instead.

Looks like I joined the Legion at just the right time. I can see a few more battles in my future.

It occurs to me that people in Skyrim seem almost obsessed with titles. Maybe I should start keeping track of the full list of things people grant me to style myself with?

_ Zulga Ogriimjud, Sworn of Malacath Upon The Anvil, Born of Dragons, Quaestor of the Imperial Legion, Thane of Whiterun. _


	46. 28th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Sundas, the twenty-eighth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I am pleased to report that today, I achieved...

_ Nothing. _

That's right. Nothing.

I slept in late, had a slow breakfast with some wine.

I browsed the market for a while, considering all of the little trinkets that people are making. I went past the smithy, to warm myself and chat to Beirand, the smith

A wander down to the docks, to just sit and watch the boats come and go.

A trip up to the Blue Palace, to see what all the fuss is about. Unlike what some people have been telling me, I didn't get dressed up in any particularly fancy clothes - orc-steel armour is suitable for all occasions, surely.

This is probably not my most exciting journal entry to date, but you know what? I don't care. I'm not living my life for a journal, I'm keeping a journal of living my life. And today, living my life meant just... living it. Not rushing from one hold to the next, not falling into bandit lairs and fighting my way out again, not delving into Nord tombs crawling with restless undead, not being attacked by wolves and bears and sabre cats, not sleeping in the snow because a dog led me into the middle of nowhere. Just, a quiet, peaceful day.

I think it's important to keep this sort of thing in mind, now that I'm under orders, and there's a war properly heating up. Battles are exciting, and interesting, and necessary, but if I try to make them all that I do, I'll go mad.

Actually, at the market, I did find one thing that's useful - an amulet enchanted to let you breathe underwater. I took the time to pull the enchantment apart, and transfer it to my helmet. I hate falling into the water, but at least now I can do it without actually dying (at least not right away).

...Why am I worrying about my journal being exciting? Whoever's reading it has either stolen it, looted it from my corpse, or is otherwise in a very strange situation. That's all the excitement you need.


	47. 29th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Morndas, the twenty-ninth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So, it looks my next assignment is over in the hold around Dawnstar. It's a pity they sided with the Stormcloaks, it's a nice little town. And has no walls around it, unlike most of the hold capitals.

EVERY time I come past the fort on the road out of Solitude, something undead or some wizard takes a shot at me. I'm sick and tired of it.

The Legion wants me to be doing Special Assignments? Well, I think it's time to make this road a little safer.

I still hate dealing with the undead, and necromancers are no better. According to the information I've found here, they cleared the place out of bandits, and are planning on doing some sort of ... experiment. Good thing they'll be stopping that, then.

You know, wizards, you can be as mystical and as creepy as you like, but if you're going to offend an Orsimer with a big hammer, and not wear even a single scrap of armour? Your day is going to be unpleasant, and not last as long as you might like. They're just so... squishy. Not even enough fight to be really satisfying.

But there are a lot of them...

~~~O~~~

Getting closer to The Pale itself, now. I'm going to avoid the roads, because if they're sensible they'll be patrolled to try to stop people like me.

Not that it would work, but still.

I really need to get this journal checked for curses, fates, and indignant gods.

When I said I'd be trying to avoid Stormcloak patrols, I did NOT mean doing so by wandering straight into one of their military camps.

That was a bit more rousing of a fight. And almost every single one of them was wearing a helmet!

The Legion is getting their money's worth out of me, and no mistake. I grabbed their maps, and torched everything there. If any Stormcloaks from this camp were out patrolling, it won't be a nice return to their camp I think.

The Legate was impressed with the mess I managed to make of the Stormcloak camp. Everyone was wondering about the plume of smoke they could see from their own camp. I may have gone a little overboard with the torch.

Looks like it's some clandestine work next, stealing documents from a Stormcloak courier, and getting false orders into Dawnstar. This should be an interesting challenge, considering how much of it I can't just hit with a hammer.

~~~O~~~

Wandering throw the snowy mountain forests, and STILL another one of these Dark Brotherhood assassins finds me. Either I'm getting better at swinging this hammer, or they're getting squishier...

And here's another bandit-ridden fort. I'll be back here to clean it out, I'm sure, but for now, I need to make good speed if I'm going to get somewhere with a warm bed before nightfall, and this deep into Stormcloak territory I'd not want to risk it just getting filled with THEM afterwards, if I do clean it up.

You know, for an inn in the middle of nowhere, half way to Windhelm, this place is actually surprisingly nice. I suppose being a solid roof, a warm fire, and some beds to rent on a road a long way from anywhere has its advantages.

The fact that I'm getting a hot meal, a seat by the fire, and a warm bed for the night before following up on my mission is all about maintaining a cover when Stormcloaks might be looking for anyone suspicious, and has nothing to do with how cold it is outside.

Nothing at all.


	48. 30th of Heart Fire, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the thirtieth day in the month of Heart Fire, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Well, that was a dramatic 'good morning'. The Stormcloak courier I needed to intercept was right there in the inn when I got out of bed! He must have spotted something about me that says Legion, because the first thing he did was draw his weapon.

Guess I won't need to go chasing him around the countryside or anything. Back on the road to get these documents back to the Legate.

I'm kind of surprised I haven't had more attention from the Stormcloaks. I suppose that one grumpy Orsimer is harder to track than a whole army, and that's why we haven't just marched into Windhelm directly already.

I stopped a moment to consider what I should do about Fort Dunstad. I was thinking before about how it being across the road was tactically quite sensible, and that the Stormcloaks had taken it over after I cleared out all of the bandits. Of course, that's a problem now.

But what should interrupt my considerations, but a frost dragon attack!

I tried to keep my distance, and let them take care of each other, but after a while there was nothing for it, and I had to do both of their jobs for them.

I'm not staying to clear out the whole fort, of course, but the guards who tried to stop me are no more.

A good haul of dragon's bone and scale, for this next suit of armour, too (by Malacath is it heavy).

There was a commendation from General Tullius waiting for me when I reported in, along with a bounty for taking out that Stormcloak camp. Definitely going to be doing my work on any more that I find.

Looks like I'm headed into Dawnstar, to hand these reports over to their commander. More stealth and subtlety. Maybe I look so obvious that they'll assume nobody who's actually in the Legion would just walk in to town? This could go badly.

Almost no garrison that I can see. That seems unwise, but helps me.

"I'm not wearing a Stormcloak uniform because this makes it easier to get past Imperial patrols." Look, nothing in that sentence is actually WRONG, it's just... very selective application of the truth. And this is one of their commanders? The war will be shorter than I thought. Maybe I SHOULD just march to Windhelm now.

And now, it looks like I'm on my way back to Fort Dunstad. Guess I should have cleared it out on my way back with the documents. Hopefully I can convince the rest of the squad they're sending to let me go in first, so none of them take arrows they can't handle.

And back on the road I go! Seems to be the theme of the day.

So, that was definitely a fierce battle. The others didn't let me rush in on my own, but I think I'm glad of that. There were a LOT of soldiers on those walls. I suppose that's another mark in the books for 'they'll see an actual army coming'.

It was a hard fight, but we've taken the fort. And I'm not walking any further today. We captured these beds, and I'm going to use one.


	49. 1st of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Middas, the first day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Frost Fall they call the month, and in these parts, the name certainly feels appropriate. It's too cold. And I've got more walking to do, to report back to the Legate.

Well now, it seems being an officer just got exciting. Legate Rikke asked me to lead the assault on Dawnstar myself! This will be a challenge. And two battles in as many days, hopefully I don't do anything stupid.

For a city with no walls and not a huge garrison, Dawnstar sure put up a hell of a fight. I've not seen that many arrows flying in such a small space before. I'm writing this while one of the Legionnaires digs eight different arrowheads out of me. As soon as she's done, I'm putting this armour back on and letting its healing magic do its thing without it getting the chance to seal the arrows inside. Not an experience I'm keen to repeat.

I killed the Jarl myself. It was fair combat, though, not an execution. He died with his armour on, a sword in his hands, and my hammer in his ribs.

I've been told to get back to Solitude, to report in to the General.

If I don't get at least one day off after this, I'm going to be grumpy. I've run all around three holds, and fought in two battles, in the past three days. I'm sore, and tired, and can still feel those arrows from Dawnstar.

No such luck on the request for a day off. I've been ordered to the Legion camp outside Winterhold, next. I really hope the mages in that city don't come out to fight alongside the Stormcloaks, that could go poorly.

No rest for talented soldiers, I guess.


	50. 2nd of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Turdas, the second day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's raining, because of course that's how my luck runs. Not that it'll be raining by the time I get to Winterhold. No. Then it'll be snowing instead.

Maybe I'll get lucky and it will be both.

I decided to head along the coast, instead of the roads. Came across a wrecked ship, which was a bit disturbing. A few skeletons on board, but mostly mudcrabs, so I guess the crew mostly got out fine? It's above the waterline for the most part, rather than at the bottom of the ocean, so I hope so.

So, it's to be another fort capture mission. This time, sneaking in to free some captured Legionnaires, to bring extra chaos by attacking from inside. 

Just so long as a dragon doesn't attack while I'm at it... I shouldn't have said that, we've established that this journal is cursed.

I've heard that the military campaign diaries of noted soldiers and leaders are sometimes used as teaching texts in military academies. If I earn a big enough reputation in the Legion, do you suppose they'll want this journal for that some day?

Those would be some very confused students.

"Today, we'll be reading from the campaign diary of the great Orsimer General of the Imperial Legion, Zulga Ogriimjud. We can see traces of her fine tactical mind in the complaints about spiders, wolves, and the undead. Her constant whining about the cold and long trips across the holds of Skyrim is clearly a clever metaphor for military logistics. Study hard, cadets."

Wait, that means that me thinking about them using this as a campaign diary to teach young students is now part of the campaign diary.

My head hurts.

I wonder what they'll make of my constantly encountering skooma dealers, and hitting them with a big hammer?

That fort was severely under-manned, I think. Only three guards inside - I initially assumed they'd all be on the walls. But it looks like a bleak mountain pass in Winterhold just isn't worth their resources to guard properly. They forget how close that fort is to Windhelm.

Cold mountain passes are even colder after dark. And just as full of wolves. Managed to make it to Dawnstar, but there are hints that the Stormcloaks might be trying to retake it. Not sure I approve of that.


	51. 3rd of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Fredas, the third day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Well there's a stroke of luck. Just as I was leaving Dawnstar, I ran into the Khajiit who asked me to find his bandit-stolen amulet for him. I've been holding on to that thing for... I have no idea how long! He was glad to have it back.

And there's the balance. A few minutes further from Dawnstar, another one of these useless assassins.

Someone should really tell them that black and red leathers are NOT good for hiding amongst snow. The charging attack just kind of ... ended, at the end of my hammer.

I reported in at the Legion camp near Dawnstar, and it looks like the counterattack has come. Guess where I'm heading back to! Time to clear out Fort Dunstad for a THIRD time. Let's hope it stays taken this time, we lost a lot of people in the last attack.

Just came across a burned-out ruin of a building. According to the signs, it was the headquarters to the Vigil of Stendarr. Can't say I'm too sad over it being in such a state, I guess someone hated them even more than I do.

We've retaken Fort Dunstad, but I think it may ACTUALLY be cursed.

I led the attack, and must have pulled thirty arrows out of my armour as payment for it. Turns out that the rest of the men were slowed down by a DRAGON attacking them, right in the middle of the battle. That's just ridiculous.

Once I realised what was happening, I went back to help with it, but they did surprisingly well at taking it down. Dragons aren't fond of being filled with arrows.

This one had a particularly interesting looking bone in its hand, that I took with me. It's almost perfectly shaped for a warhammer, if I can put a little work in to giving it a handle. That's going to leave a mark on whoever takes it to the face.

Time to get back to the camp, and hopefully the Fort stays in our hands this time.

Looks like more running: I've been ordered back to Solitude, to consult with General Tullius on the next stages of the war.

Well now, I'm moving up in the world again! That's Praefect Zulga Ogriimjud, now. I rather like the sound of that. Seems that leading assaults on forts and cities, and surviving however many arrows the Stormcloaks can muster, is pretty good for your reputation.

It seems that after the fort protecting the way to Winterhold fell, the hold itself surrendered without a fight. I'm glad, that's one less battle for people to die in.

I think I've definitely earned a day off, and I'm taking it.


	52. 4th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Loredas, the fourth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I spent last night scouring the libraries of Castle Dour and the Blue Palace, and I think I've worked out how to heat dragon bones and scales just right, so that they can be worked into armour. I also found a reference with some words of the dragons' language in it, and the perfect name for this new hammer I'll be making.

The morning was spent at the forge, carefully moulding the bone into a good warhammer. It's not even a matter of hammering it, because the bone would win. Heat, bend, heat, heat, bend... The density of these bones is rather impressive. I've had to use ebony for the handle, because anything weaker would crack under the force I'll be swinging through it.

It's slow, careful work. I don't think there's much chance of breaking the material, but given I'll need to take down a dragon for each piece of this new equipment, it's probably best to be cautious.

More chance of breaking the equipment I'm trying to forge it with, really.

The new hammer is finished, I just need to enchant it now. I'll be sticking with the flame enchantment, that's done rather well for me so far. Castle Dour has a good enchanting station set up near the General's war room.

And then, it just needs naming.

I've chosen the name  **Rotte** for the new hammer.

I found it in a partial dictionary of the dragon language.

It means  **Words** .

Well, why stop when I have a good joke going?

I took Rotte to the training yard, to try it against one of the practice dummies.

I now owe them the cost of a new practice dummy.

This hammer feels like it could shatter a god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another [character picture](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0e455a664f24821a0da32cc047487553/0650881525f53138-d4/s2048x3072/d200ace4778ab98d2f9eb067ce0efada63e7fd6a.jpg), to celebrate the new hammer!
> 
> Also, [a few notes on my Tumblr](https://mandywondering.tumblr.com/post/628384778724458496/) about how I'm taking these pictures.


	53. 5th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Sundas, the fifth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It seems that Dawnguard has fallen to the Stormcloaks again. Time to try having some Words with them with this new accessory I've made.

Looks like the Stormcloaks are even more audacious than we thought. I just found a camp of them just off the road into Solitude! The first test of Rotte was a magnificent success, not one of them took a second hit. One swing even managed to collide with one, and throw them so hard into the next that they both fell.

I'm glad I found this camp before they could cause any trouble, it was a prime position to spy on movements and even intercept merchant caravans.

And so I'm looking over Dawnstar again, ready to attack. And this time, the snow is falling thick on everything. Hopefully that will interfere with their archers a little.

Onward!

That was messy, just like the last time. But as I'd hoped, the snow did stop me getting too many arrows. And Rotte has been well and truly bloodied now. It's definitely going to serve me well.

The amount of trudging through the snows and rains and marshes of Skyrim that I've done, maybe instead of a campaign diary, this journal will get taken as a travel guide. "Where To Avoid In Skyrim And Why: A Guide To Spiders".

On my way back to Solitude to report in, and it turns out that Rotte will even take down an irate horker in one swing. That's good to know.

I'm definitely making an impression in the Legion. General Tullius has appointed me a Tribune, an even more senior officer. I'm outside of the usual command structure, of course, but that should give me the authority to act as I need to to see this war won. Another commendation for taking out that Stormcloak camp near here, too.

And with that new authority, and my big hammer, it seems I'm off to the Rift. A town full of crime AND Stormcloaks? Hopefully we can fix things up there somewhat.

Thanks to my taking a shortcut through the mountains (and some rather impressive Nord ruins in a high mountain pass - not that I went inside any of them) we can add 'large frost troll' to the list of things which won't stand up to one good swing of this hammer.

That would have made climbing that stupidly tall mountain to meet the Greybeards easier.

Made it into Whiterun just before dark. It's good to see that they've managed to clean up some of the damage from the battle - those catapults did a number on a lot of the architecture here. There's still some rubble around, but life seems to be getting back to normal.

Hopefully, with an early start, I can make it to the Rift tomorrow. I'm getting more used to going all over the province, even if it's tiring.


	54. 6th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Morndas, the sixth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I did not end up getting an early start. Some mornings, getting up is just that little bit harder. Oh well, I've earned a little rest. Back on the road.

That bear did not enjoy its encounter with the other end of Rotte. I love this hammer.

And there's the test that I was really looking forward to. A dragon attack, wielding this hammer. I'm lucky that it started by landing in front of me, really. A few good solid swings - though more than anything else would stand up to - and it stayed down.

I took a few more choice sections of bone and scales, and I think I actually have enough to make some armour with now! That will be a fascinating time, when I get the chance.

I don't actually know what sort of magic that dragon was going to breathe at me, I hit it across the jaw as soon as it landed and it never got the chance.

I'm glad that dragons seem vulnerable to their own kind, though it must have been a pretty weird experience. I'm not sure how I'd feel if I came up next to someone, and they clubbed me with another Orsimer's femur.

Just found a Stormcloak patrol, who kindly dealt with a huge spider for me. I didn't let them leave, of course, but I'm glad I only had to deal with them.

You know what I like about this part of Skyrim? This whole area...

It isn't snowing.

Luxury.

So those cultists who keep randomly attacking me on the roads, as I go hither and yon. It turns out, for all their fire-throwing magic, they can't deal with a bear attacking them. That was a glorious sight to see.

Ah, the little town of Ivarstead. This brings back memories of... preparing for far too many stairs.

Why do so many places in Skyrim bring back those memories for me?

I'm just going to keep moving.

Looks like it's another infiltration mission into Riften. Shouldn't be too hard, I think. And, of course, to allay suspicion, I'll have to stop at the inn when I get there, and make use of their kitchen and their warm beds. For the cover story, you understand.

The problem with such plans as "I'll sleep in a warm bed for the cover story" is that they make you forget things like "how far I've already run today" and "how far it is to run to get to that warm bed". It was after dark by the time I made it to Riften, but at least I looked every part the bedraggled traveller. An Imperial agent would plan things better, I guarantee, so I must be innocent.


	55. 7th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the seventh day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

A visit to the Jarl's residence in the early hours has the evidence that I need. Now to wait a non-suspicious amount of time, and then I go do the other half of my mission, some nice direct blackmail.

It's been a weird start to the day.

I'm really not suited to this cloak-and-dagger type thing. I'm much better off with the armour-and-hammer end of things. But I managed to get the sort of thing we were after: information on a shipment of gold and weapons for the Stormcloaks. Off to report that in, and then we should have some fun.

I really wish they'd find someone sneakier for the sneaky missions.

Trudging around the Rift hold, I'm certainly glad of the lack of snow, but there are a lot of lakes and rivers, which are nearly as annoying. And while having our camp a long way from the capital is sensible, it does make for a lot more walking for me.

Oh well. Time for more walking, to intercept this caravan of gold and weapons.

All that hiking across the mountains of the Rift, and when I get to the caravan... the scouts I'd been sent to meet were on the opposite side of it.

It looked like one of the wheels had fallen off their overloaded cart, which is how we managed to catch up with them.

Luckily, it only had five guards, and I have a big hammer. That seems a little short-sighted, given how much was on the cart, I'd have given that at least a dozen guards, all of them Orsimer. Maybe they were hoping to go unnoticed? And of course, can't get Orsimer guards if your whole war is "Skyrim for the Nords". And that's why they're going to lose.

I won't make it back to camp tonight, so it looks like I'll be sleeping outdoors. At least it's fairly dry. Not going to try my luck sneaking back into Riften, that would be stupid.

Looks like the fort on the road between Riften and Shor's Stone is full of Stormcloaks. What's the bet that once I get to camp, the Legate will send me right back here?

The Stormcloaks probably aren't even grateful that I cleared out all the bandits that were there, either.


	56. 8th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Middas, the eighth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Nothing tried to eat me while I slept, which is always a good start to the day.

At least, I don't think I did. Anything that tried, failed, unless their stomach looks like the forest of the Rift inside...

That seems unlikely. I'm probably fine.

As predicted, the result of my run across the Rift is a run back across the Rift, to help take Fort Greenwall.

All this running back and forth between fights is giving me time to think. Perhaps I do need to start giving travel advice style reviews of the places I visit...

**Riften** _The Rift_

With a piquant smell of stagnant water and fish, and a refreshing lack of stairs, the high crime rate and corruption will be the last thing on your mind after you sample the local meads. The marketplace is guaranteed to empty your purse, even if you can't find a single thing to buy!

Looking at the walls of Fort Greenwall, I'm remembering the important lesson of "shoot at the defenders to thin the count of archers before charging in". Let's see how that goes for me.

So, if we go by results for the battle as a whole, that went quite well. A few soldiers lost, but not too many. 

If we go by arrows lodged in my armour and/or flesh, it didn't go quite so nicely. A round dozen. I managed to get the ones that hit flesh out of me before the healing magic in the armour could do much damage, but pulling them out quickly is ALSO a pretty awful experience. Better to not get shot in the first place.

One day I might even manage to make that happen.

But, Fort Greenwall is safely in our hands now, so the road from Riften to Windhelm is under our control. And tomorrow, I expect to march on Riften itself, unless they're smart and surrender like Winterhold did.


	57. 9th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Turdas, the ninth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

After a long night spent planning the attack with Legate Rikke, this morning, we march on Riften itself. This will be my first attack on a city with walls - at least, the first one where I've been the attacker. I only hope we can get over the walls before their archers cut us to pieces.

Onward, to crime city and victory!

That battle was one that I'll remember.

Riften's garrison had a much better idea about securing their city than the other areas I've fought in. Archer-loaded towers on the approaches, with barricades to slow the enemy advance. It might have worked, too, if an Orsimer Tribune with a dragon-bone warhammer hadn't been leading the charge.

The barricades shattered like kindling, which let us get to their archers and stop the arrows from coming in quite so thick. The gates were barred, but the bar wasn't strong enough.

Once we were inside the city, it actually got easier. That makes sense, I suppose. Only a few guards between me and the Jarl's hall. Only a few guards between the door of the hall and the Jarl.

She surrendered to me, but I think there's a good chance of the Stormcloaks trying to retake the city pretty soon. Especially since we now have Windhelm more or less surrounded.

Walking around the city after the battle is almost surreal. The usual busy marketplace is all but abandoned - sensibly so, since it stands between the gate and the Jarl's palace. The forge is quiet. Even the thieves and cutpurses are off somewhere safer.

The bombardment of the city was a lot less than Whiterun endured from the Stormcloaks, but there's still rubble scarring the landscape here and there. Hopefully none of it will block the canals in an awkward way. I'd hate to have helped conquer a city only to see it flood.

In the afternoon, a few Stormcloaks got in past the defences, in a counterattack. I suppose that's the risk of smashing a hole right through the defences of a city you want for yourself.

There weren't many of them, but they killed a few of the men guarding the gate before I could intervene.

I'm going to find a bed in the garrison bunks, now that they're being taken over for the Legion, and after that, Rikke has told me to take the reports of the Rift campaign to General Tullius. I should be able to make Solitude within the day, I think. If nothing goes wrong.

I shouldn't have said that, I'm sure.


	58. 10th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Fredas, the tenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

An early start, and back on the march. There are dispatches to take to Solitude.

Of course, the last time I went from Riften to Solitude, I went via the other hold capitals on the way, starting with Windhelm. My keen instincts tell me that might not be the best idea, right now. I mean, it wasn't the best idea THEN, either, but it's even less best now. Less best? Less good. Worse. Stupider. Like my use of language. I should skip the words, and just use Words.

The problem with the roads of Skyrim - and it's not a problem most of the time, just for me right now - is that they're mostly designed to make merchant travel easier. And if there's one thing they like, it's routing your nice taxable merchant caravan past checkpoints and cities, to extract a little more revenue.

Had a close run in by a Stormcloak fort, but I just kept up a good pace, and let them shout insults at me. I'll be back for them, I'm sure.

Just met the most strange person I have for some time. Dressed in a full jester's outfit, with the body of his dead mother on a cart. I'm not going to judge. I'm not.

Maybe a little.

Anyway.

The cart has broken, but the farmer who has the tools he needs to fix it won't help. It can't hurt to go have a word with him...

I convinced the farmer to fix the cart wheel. If we stopped helping people just for being too weird, the world would probably be a much bleaker place.

The fact that it's the only way he'll get the jester to move on, which is something he seemed particularly keen on, might have helped.

I just hope the poor madman can bury his mother, and that she's comfortable enough to stay there. Who knows in a place as strange as Skyrim?

Speaking of strange things in Skyrim, while hiking through the mountains to get to Solitude by a shorter route, I came across some old Nord ruins with another one of those dragon-language walls that seems to magically give me some understanding of my powers. It also had a dragon sitting on top of it, who was NOT pleased to see me.

I think I actually have enough pieces of dragon bone to put together a full suit of armour now, if I'm careful. The forge of Solitude and I have a date.

As to the word wall's power? It seems I can breathe ice-wind, like the dragons do (though not quite as thoroughly as they seem to, at least not yet). This will be very interesting. Hopefully I can learn to breathe fire, too, it's cold enough up here.

To the dedicated traveller, who has mistaken this journal for a travel guide to Skyrim:

You may have wondered, as many have before, whether it is possible to march from Riften to Solitude in the space of a single day.

The answer, of course, is no.

Don't be stupid.

You will arrive in Solitude damp, cold, wet, miserable, soaked, and freezing. And only an hour by the fire will warm you again enough to contemplate a bed. If you're not mad, stop in Whiterun half way through this trip, and have two enjoyable days instead of one miserable one.

I am in Solitude, writing this by the fire. The military life is ridiculous sometimes.


	59. 11th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Loredas, the eleventh day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

My meeting with General Tullius went better than I expected. I'm now a Legate in the Imperial Legion, one of the most senior commanders - even if I'm outside the regular army structure. That puts me on par with Legate Rikke, even if I'd not be stupid enough to override something she said. Something tells me that would go poorly.

My mission for tomorrow is to get down to Falkreath, which recently fell to the Stormcloaks. We're tightening the walls around Ulfric, before we finally hit Windhelm. Best to take out his support base first.

But for now... It's time to spend the day crafting some new armour. Something fit for the amount of arrows and dragons I seem to encounter.

There's something almost meditative about the process of forming these pieces of dragon bone into armour. Letting the heat soak all the way into the bone, not just on the surface. It's almost like a creature that breathes fire might have some adaptations in its bones to resist the effects of fire.

And frost, and impact, and...

It's also interesting to compare to crafting the matching hammer. On the one hand, there's no single piece as large as that, so each one takes less time in the fire, and less time to shape. On the other hand, there are so many more pieces, and they have to fit together in complicated ways.

The helmet is first, with both the scales and bones of dragons. I made sure it has good visibility - I can't abide those helmets that sacrifice being able to see. I just need to keep my eyes open and not try to stare down any archers. I also made sure it has a good clearance for my mouth (though, with guards jutting forward). If I'm a Legate now, that'll mean shouting orders on the battlefield, and anyway I need to show off my tusks in case there are any pretty girls around.

The gauntlets were by far the most fiddly part of the construction. Smaller plates of bone, and I definitely need to be able to move my hands properly while I'm fighting. Especially as someone who fights with a warhammer, with my hands right out front towards the enemy, I'm at risk of getting my fingers mashed in every fight.

Boots. Boots are important. The number of things that have tried to step on me, or bite my legs, or be spikes underneath my feet...

Skyrim is insane like that.

Some more complicated piecing, and definitely making use of the scales I've taken from the dragons as well. If I shape it just right, I can get the sole of these boots to flex, but still have the grip of the rough texture of the scales.

Can't wait to kick something wearing these.

The cuirass... I left this to last to make sure I have just as much practice with forming the bones into armour plates as possible. After all, it's what's protecting my vital organs (other than my head), and has most of the weight of the suit. Large pieces front and back, and over each shoulder, plus separate lower body panels - like, over my stomach and such. Should be able to move pretty well in this, and absolutely nothing is getting through.

That was a long day. I'm leaving the armour without enchantments for now, until I can work out the absolute best things to put onto it. For now, I'm going to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another [character picture](https://64.media.tumblr.com/e4ea07bdc7596d3b239714d24e15cd22/5f757db155a8b047-d1/s2048x3072/6f892c0ba4af39d06ab821d80fc3a2fe7084d458.jpg)!


	60. 12th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Sundas, the twelfth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I checked in with General Tullius before heading to the Falkreath campaign. It seems the Stormcloaks have re-taken Riften already. I can't help but blame myself, if I'd not hurried back so fast I could have helped repel that attack. And now we'll have to storm it all over again. But, Falkreath first. 

It's... actually a little strange, making my way across the countryside in non-enchanted armour. I'd gotten so used to the tingling feeling of the healing magic, and the extra traction from the boots. I'll have to be a little more careful. And spend all this time thinking of what I want to enchant the dragon plate armour with...

A brief stop by Whiterun, to check over the defences there (the General's request). Things are still pretty messed up there, but the defences should hold out against another assault. Having been on both sides of a walled city assault, I can definitely see a lot more of the features of the design.

One of these days, I'm going to find out what lolly-gagging is, and spend a whole day doing it in front of hold guards...

Speaking of the defences of Whiterun, I just found another Stormcloak encampment in the mountains overlooking the city. They were a little ways off the road, but making a decent amount of noise.

Needless to say, that camp is no longer a threat to Whiterun.

The pass through the mountains that I started on from near the Stormcloak camp has certainly turned out well! I'm almost to Ivarstead, in much less time than expected. I might even make the camp by nightfall.

It's the same camp as we used in the Rift campaign (and I'm sure, will use again for the second round there). That would explain how far west of Riften it is.

I hope that doesn't mean I need to go past Helgen for every mission.

The soldiers at the camp were rather appreciative of my new armour. Hopefully, having one of their Legates setting this sort of example will be good for morale. Even if I can't afford to give them all this grade of protection, I can make sure that as much of the danger is heading for me as possible.

We march for Falkreath in the morning. Just glad it isn't a walled city.


	61. 13th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Morndas, the thirteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

We march on Falkreath.

Helgen.

Of course the road to Falkreath led us right to Helgen.

The first time I came here, I almost died in a hundred ways, and had nothing to fight back with save my fists.

Every time since, those memories have haunted me, scared me.

But not today.

I am clad in the bones of dragons, and hit with the might of dragons, and breathe the breath of dragons.

A dragon almost killed me in Helgen

Now  **I** am the Dragon of Helgen. I reclaim this place from remembered horror.

I will be strong.

And here we are, overlooking Falkreath. The graveyard of Skyrim, where the Nords come to bury their honoured dead. There'll be too many people joining them today, but at least they won't have far to travel.

The sooner we can finish this war, the better.

The battle was intense, but mercifully brief. I took the Jarl's surrender myself. Our losses were thankfully fairly minimal. I made sure I had as much of the Stormcloak's attention as possible.

The dragon armour has a pretty good intimidation factor for that. They want to get me off the field as quickly as possible, so the enemy - especially their archers - leave the rest of my troops alone. This can only be a good thing.

My own score for today: only one arrow embedded in my armour. That's a success!

I'm going to patrol the area some more, and double check the ruins of Helgen again. Don't want another situation like Riften, where the Stormcloaks lurking nearby take the city right back. That's just wasteful.

Well, I was right to check. The bandits had set themselves up quite the comfortable little lair in the Helgen keep. It's been cleaned up now, of course.

The tattered and charred Legion banners still hanging outside in Helgen were an interesting sight.

I think I've conquered my fear of the place. It will not control me.

Being attacked by a dragon shortly after leaving Helgen just capped the experience nicely. It fell to me in a few blows. I am the only dragon around here. I claim the title Dragon of Helgen, and let any other dragon try to take it from me.

Well! It sure is a bad day to be a Stormcloak in my vicinity. On my way back to the Rift region camp - we've plans to re-re-retake Fort Greenwall tomorrow - I stumbled right into the Stormcloak counteroffensive force for Falkreath!

I took their maps, and burned their tents, hopefully we won't be getting trouble from them in the area.


	62. 14th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the fourteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

If I have to march on Fort Greenwall again, I may go mad. It's a tough place to take, but the Stormcloaks seem to revel in taking it back as soon as we do.

I decided to try a frontal assault this time. It was a chance to give this armour another good test, since this is always a good place to collect arrows in the back.

I picked 6 arrows out of the armour, and who knows how many more bounced off. To me, they were like bee stings.

It almost seems unfair to the Stormcloaks, but they've had every chance to surrender and accept that the Empire is in control of Skyrim, and that more than Nords are allowed here. If Ulfric and his kind don't want me in Skyrim, let them do something about it.

It's not going well for them so far.

Rikke has asked me to take another packet of reports to General Tulius in Solitude. I'm not going to make the mistake of trying to get there in one day, I'll detour by Whiterun. We'll see how things go from there.

An unexpected Stormcloak patrol on the road near Ivarstead. They attacked on sight, too, so obviously tales about the mad Legate in dragon bone armour are starting to spread.

You know, I'm in two minds about being the one to carry these packets of reports from the front lines of the war back to the General in Solitude.

They're important reports, and a lot of the things contained in each packet could be disastrous for our side if they were to be captured. Sending your most capable, most heavily armed officer, and one who is proven loyal and trustworthy, makes a lot of sense for getting them through hostile territory safely.

But I've walked, run, marched, trudged, loped, and trod over so much of Skyrim that I'm either due a Jarlship (Jarldom? Jarlling?) or a denouncement as mad. I've fought wolves, spiders, Stormcloaks, bears, undead, spiders, dragons, another type of undead, skeevers, spiders, and at least seven different kinds of snow. Just once, I'd like an assignment that involves things other than going all over Skyrim.

Maybe General Tullius could move somewhere closer to the war than Solitude. Just a thought.


	63. 15th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Middas, the fifteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Nothing will happen on the road today. No Stormcloaks, no assassins, no dragons. I speak this into existence, and pray that I've not cursed myself.

Well. I didn't specifically say "no getting snow-blinded in high mountain passes and then attacked by frost trolls", so that's on me.

You know, when I was told about the responsibilities of a Legate, I must admit that I pictured more leading troops into battle, and fewer cold mountain passes.

I think if today's entry were to be taken for the traveller's guide to Skyrim, it would be about the many types of unpleasant snow. The type that falls directly onto your eyeballs as you trudge across the mountains. The type that turns to sludge as soon as it hits the swamps of Hjaalmarch, deep enough to hide a frostbite spider in. The type that piles as deep as your waist when you're trying to get anywhere. The type that wolves have pissed in just before attacking you. The type that bears have shat in, to answer an age old question - yes, the mountains too, and COPIOUSLY.

I should visit the deserts of the Khajiit homelands. That sounds warm.

Now this, this is more the sort of thing that you picture when you think about being a Legate in the Imperial Legion.

With the reports I brought in, and the extra information I could add from being there, the General and I sat down and planned the next stage of the war. We march back into Riften, and then turn around and straight to Eastmarch hold and Windhelm. He'll be joining us closer to the front lines, with the war coming to its conclusion.

It looks like we'll finally be able to bring peace to Skyrim. I know that the Empire winning the war won't solve everything around here, but at least there won't be a civil war tearing the province apart. That's done enough damage to enough people, and cost enough lives, that it's best we were just done with it.

Fredas, we march on Riften again. Perhaps by Sundas, we end the war.

I'm not sure what I'll do with myself, I've gotten so wrapped up in running all over Skyrim for Legion business...


	64. 16th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Turdas, the sixteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's a long march to get back to the front lines. I hope General Tullius will take my suggestion about moving closer, because that will really make things work better for us.

The time on the road has given me time to think. Once the war's over, it won't be the end of the work I need to do for the Legion. We're working to bring peace to Skyrim, after all, and it's not just the Stormcloaks that are ruining that. The number of bandit groups and such definitely needs some pruning.

The day is still fairly young, and it's already a bad day for the Stormcloaks. I came across another one of their camps - according to the maps, a staging area for an attack on Dawnstar and the Pale. It's no longer a threat. Just lucky for me it was on the route I was taking to go around Windhelm to get where I'm going.

I decided to focus on archery for this camp, to make sure I was keeping my skills current. Seemed to go fairly well, even if a few got close enough for me to have to have Words with them instead.

I came across a small island in the middle of a pond, with some mudcrabs gathered around a rather nasty looking blood stain. I thought it might be something that needed investigating, but what I found instead was a hatch leading down into a vampire den!

There's definitely more work to be done cleaning up Skyrim, if the vampire problem is as bad as it seems. I've had a few too many encounters with them.

And dragons. There are too many dragons.

One just leapt off a rocky outcrop and landed right next to me, so I had some Words with it. And, as luck would have it, when I went to see the spot it had taken off from, there was another one of those dragon language walls that help me to understand my abilities. So, now I can breathe ice storms that bit better.

Should be handy if I'm ever disarmed again.

This dragon seemed to have been hunting the local mammoth population, judging by the number of skeletons around there. Sensible, as far as draconic food sources go.

My stop for tonight is the Eastmarch camp, where the preparations for the attack on Winterhold are beginning. Things are going well here, but we're not ready. Tomorrow, I march to the Rift camp, and from there, all going well, we march on Riften.


	65. 17th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Fredas, the seventeenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

You know what I miss? Lunches. None of this chunk of cheese and a handful of dried meat while marching, so that you can make it to the next camp. I mean when everyone puts down their picks and their hammers, finds some dry corner of the mine, and someone brings down a pot of hot food from the camp outside. We all just sit, eat, and talk.

There aren't as many good times for lunch when you're wandering the roads and forests of Skyrim, trying to end a war.

I want lunches back.

Another thing I miss. Sleeping in the same bed two nights in a row. These days, it takes all I can arrange to make sure that I sleep in **A** bed two nights in a row. 

The best beds I've found on my travels have been the ones in inns, inside cities. Warm, with a waterproof roof above it. You have to not mind the sounds of drinking and singing and WHY DO THEY HAVE A DRUM IN HERE? from the tavern part of the inn, but it's quite good.

After that, you have the army camps. I know, soldiers love to complain about them and such, but that's just the regular infantry going soft. An actual bedroll, and a canvas roof above you (often quite close above you) to keep the roof off, and night sentries to keep the larger animals from making off with your leg in the night.

Then we come to camping in a forest. There are bugs. There are wolves. There are spiders. But you won't freeze to death.

And last, we have sleeping in the frozen wastes. Bring an extra cloak, and a weapon enchanted with fire magic to hug close.

I've not said much about what I'm actually doing today. One foot in front of the other. We're nearly to Riften, now.

The battle was hard, just as hard as the last time we were here. If we can garrison those archery towers the same as the Stormcloaks did, hopefully we can actually hold on to the place this time. I'm grateful again for the strength of this new armour, letting me take the front of the battle and weather a lot of arrows that the others didn't.

I'm staying here overnight, to oversee the rebuilding of the defences and their manning with Legionnaires. And then, we march north.


	66. 18th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Loredas, the eighteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

And so, the final part of this war approaches. We march on Eastmarch, the lands held by Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak himself.

This will surely be the hardest fight, the Stormcloaks know what people want of their leader if we catch him, and they know he'd never surrender another way. They'll fight like cornered rats.

Our first target is Fort Amol. It controls far too many of the transport routes in this area for it to be safe to launch an attack on Windhelm with it at our backs. I've been ordered to lead the assault.

Another day of marching, but by nightfall the fort will be ours.

I'm not entirely sure what to call this sort of terrain. It's too hot to be a swamp or marsh, but too wet to be much of anything else. Everything smells of eggs, there are pools of water everywhere, and it's awful to march through. But that's on the cards a lot for me the next few days, I think.

The archers at that fort were certainly energetic, and keen. Two arrows lodged in my armour, and plenty more that skidded or bounced off.

It was another hard fight, and as expected they're starting to fight more desperately. Windhelm itself is going to cost a lot of lives, on both sides. I only hope the rest of their army surrenders once we take it. Skyrim's population has suffered enough.

I think battles are starting to lose their feeling of glory, for me. Too much death will do that, I suppose. They're still thrilling, and still necessary, but I'm looking forward to when we have far fewer of them, especially at grand scale.

Marching back across the egg-scented hot marshes. I don't think I want to touch the water, considering how many mammoth skeletons are in it. That seems like a bad sign.

That said, I just came across a hunter camp where all three of them were naked, and lounging in the water together! I'm very confused, asking no questions, and moving hastily along.

Well. This is not what I expected. We're not attacking Windhelm in the morning.

We attack at sunset. The hope is to use the coming darkness to shield us from their archers.

Once more unto the breach. Once more, but hopefully only once.

So. There are the great stone walls of Windhelm.

The first time I was here, I was almost certain that the people there would happily see me dead. Today, they'll be trying their best to make it happen.

But I won't be holding back, and neither will the hundreds of friends I've brought with me.

Let's see an end to this.

The outer defences along the bridge fell to catapult fire, clearing the way for us to get to the walls. But the catapult fire coming the other way was just as fierce. Even crossing that bridge was costly.

The streets of the great city wreathed in flames and rubble, even worse than the Battle of Whiterun. I don't know how many of their troops I put down, I couldn't stop to count when the others were counting on me. I'll stop to count arrows when this is all done.

And so, it is done. Ulfric Stormcloak is dead by my hand. He used the dragon voice in his final battle, sent Legate Rikke flying across the room.

He asked that I be the one to end him, to "make for a better song". A strange thing to think of at the end, but I granted it.

And just like that, the war is over. There might be a few holdouts who need convincing, but no more armies marching against each other, setting cities to siege.


	67. 19th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Sundas, the nineteenth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

The war is over. I've been assigned to crafting and keeping the peace in Skyrim, rather than any specific posting.

This, I can do.

But for now, I think I need to get away from Windhelm. Others will oversee its rebuilding, and I saw too much death here last night to stay much longer at all.

I think some time in Whiterun would be good for me. That place has done well for me in the past. Other than that night of drinking.

The roads are strangely quiet. No Stormcloaks, no bandits. One assassination attempt, and plenty of wolves, but that's almost background noise now.

As I walk, I start to wonder what I should be doing with myself. Craft and keep the peace, they say. But there are so many things that could mean. I suppose I should just start acting as I think best, for that. Perhaps I ought find bandit strongholds, and clean them out. Forsworn, too, they're just bandits with a dress theme.

The vampire attacks are something I'll need to deal with, too. And the spiders, though that's a bigger project.

Whiterun is quiet, as well. But after yesterday, I think I like that. I'm just going to sit by the forge a while, warming myself, and talking about metal with the smith. I think I've earned that.

I got to thinking about this place's love of titles, and decided to update my list.

_ Zulga Ogriimjud, Sworn of Malacath Upon The Anvil, Born of Dragons, Legate of the Imperial Legion and Hero of the War Against the Stormcloak Rebellion, Thane of Whiterun, Dragon of Helgen. _


	68. 20th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Morndas, the twentieth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

There's been another bounty put out on a bandit leader. This seems a good start to my work of cleaning up the post-war Skyrim a little. I've been looking at my travelling pack, and making sure it's got the healing potions I'll need instead of a random assortment of accumulated crap.

That bandit camp was ... almost disappointing. I only found three bandits in it. Makes you wonder what they were doing that was big enough to be worth a bounty.

There was a rather interesting forge set up there, though, with some information on a particular type of enchantment. Lunar based magic, which is not one I've seen before. Interesting.

I feel like I should do a proper patrol of the area, while I'm out here. Make the trip worthwhile instead of that minimal bit of banditry suppression

It seems that the Thalmor want me dead. I'm not entirely sure why. I was just attacked by three of their agents, two soldiers and a mage. The mage was carrying an official order for my execution! I've apparently disrupted their activities and caused great harm.

I had no real interest in the Aldmeri Dominion before this. But it seems they've declared me their enemy.

So be it.

Death to the Thalmor, I guess.

There's a cave near here that I've heard some of the Whiterun guards talking about. It probably bears investigation.

Okay, the deformed elves living here are, firstly, very creepy but not as bad as undead, and secondly, almost immediately hostile.

I also don't like their giant insect pets. They're almost as bad as spiders.

The amount of bodies and skeletons just left lying around is also pretty unsettling.

But at least they're staying dead so far.

And now there's apparently some Dwemer ruins inside this mutated elf cave?

WHY DID NO-ONE TELL ME THAT DWEMER RUINS HAVE GIANT AUTOMATONS THAT TRY TO KILL YOU AND FRY YOU WITH STEAM?

That was a hard fight, but actually rather satisfying. I'll have bruises after that, though.

A few more bandit camps cleared out on that patrol. Including one that was using a blind guy as their front door watchman. That seems counterproductive.

Looks like Whiterun is fairly clean, for now. I think I'll start making my way towards Solitude in the morning, see what help they need there.


	69. 21st of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the twenty-first day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Back on the road again - and actually the road, this time. No more shortcuts through the wilderness today, if I'm patrolling for bandits then I'll want to stick to the roads where they prey on merchants.

For today's first unpleasant encounter, a passage through the mountains filled with skeletons and a necromancer. Hopefully by cleaning that area out, it can actually be a useful route for people.

I'm definitely off the road to Solitude, though. Oh well, a roundabout route will still get me there, and I might find a few things that need my attention on the way. Perhaps I'll try to make it to Falkreath tonight instead.

More necromancers. I hate necromancers.

And spiders.

And spriggans. I just got attacked by THREE of them. Why is this my life now? Living angry undead people, living angry tree people... I won't ask what's next, I don't want to know.

Just lucky spriggans are so flammable.

Falkreath is still a depressing, damp little town. I won't be lingering around here too long, but after that diversion got me so far off track, it's probably best to actually get a night's sleep before trying to get back on the road.

I had such high plans for today, getting all the way back to Solitude and solving everyone's problems. I suppose I should get used to some disappointment.

The cleanup after the battle is still ongoing. The grave diggers are in full swing, between the battle here and all of the others around Skyrim that sent some of their fallen here as well. Hopefully the economy here should see some benefit from that whole mess.


	70. 22nd of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Middas, the twenty-second day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Well, the plan was to get to Solitude today, but it seems there's work to do around Falkreath hold before I do. The Jarl has asked for help with a bandit camp that he had been having dealings with, but have turned on him.

That's not encouraging, if the Jarl of Falkreath has been doing business with bandits.

And, of course, it's raining.

Well. A long hike trying to find my way up the mountain to this bandit camp, and I find out that it's actually a small Orsimer mine for orc-steel ore. Though, they did look to be set up for banditry.

I really wish the Jarl would find something else to send me after than my own kind, even if they are bandits. I'm going to go yell at him.

Three spiders and a bear. At the same time. The universe is just mocking me now. If the spiders and the bears are learning to team up, I'm worried.

And the next thing, I came across a small squad of Thalmor fighting a squad of Stormcloak remnant loyalists. I thought about leaving them to it, but two birds with one stone... I waited until they were all gathered together to fight, and took one great swing. They all dropped at once. Very satisfying.

I just got attacked by an Argonian, but with no weapons or anything, he just came up and started punching me! I tried to get him to stop, but it didn't work, so I had to put him down. The empty skooma bottles in his pockets might be some clue as to what was happening. I'm definitely going to take out every skooma dealer I find.

Apparently, my reward for service to Falkreath is the right to buy property in the hold. The idea of actually getting some place to call home in Skyrim is a tempting one, even as a home base that I could return to regularly. I'll have to give it some thought.

But not in Falkreath. Creepy hold. I'm going to try to make it to Rorikstead by tonight.

Another attack by those weird masked cultists that throw fire magic around. I'm getting really sick of them...

And another run-in with the Vigil of Stendarr. They really don't seem to learn their lesson about followers of Malacath.

And here we are in pleasant, scenic Rorikstead. By pleasant, I mean not horrendously creepy like Falkreath. By scenic, I mean overlooking the Whiterun Plains, instead of at the bottom of a rocky valley like Falkreath. It'll do for the night.


	71. 23rd of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Turdas, the twenty-third day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Back on the road. I'm hoping to reach Solitude, but I'll definitely prioritise cleaning up any messes I find along the way. Hopefully nothing too creepy.

A few bandits and a sabre cat to start the day, then another one of those Dark Brotherhood assassins! They're definitely going to need taking care of, if I can actually find their home base. I can't be their only target, after all.

Came across someone's journal talking about attacks on caravans that are too brutal to be normal bandits. That's definitely a lead to investigate. The path that they say they went down has deathbells growing all along it... I've never liked them, too creepy. Some say they grow where bodies are buried.

That would explain Falkreath.

But, I guess I should follow the creepy trail.

Oh, my favourite type of cave. Partially flooded, and full of spiders. Great.

Not just spiders, also those mutated elves. I guess that could explain what's been attacking caravans, they seem a rather aggressive bunch...

At least there's nothing down here that's undead.

Some dead prisoners, in rather horrible conditions. Looks like it's definitely been these elves attacking the caravans. The sacrificial altar was a particularly dreadful touch. I have no idea what was going on in that cave, and I'm not sure I  **want** to know, but whatever it was, it's not going on any longer.

Ah, the dragon bridge at Dragon Bridge. Truly a wonder in both transportation infrastructure architecture and in honest and accurate place names. And a sign that I'm nearly to Solitude.

I went to pay my respects at the Jarl's palace, and got a few bits of work to do tomorrow. One standard bandit bounty, and one "please investigate the reports of something weird going on". Should make for an interesting day, at least.


	72. 24th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Fredas, the twenty-fourth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

So, two different places to go render safe for the people of Skyrim. I think I'll handle the bandits first, because investigating unknown strange things is the sort of task that often ends up a lot more complex than it seems it should be.

Well. Passing by Wolfskull Cave, that needs investigating, I was attacked by two skeletons. That's not a good sign for when I get back here to look into it properly. I still hate the undead.

A bandit camp set up in an old shipwreck. Certainly an interesting spot to set up. I wonder if it was their ship, or just a convenient place to get shelter? Either way, that lightning-throwing leader of theirs got what was coming to them.

Now if I can just find the path I need to get back inland, up those cliffs.

The roads are a bit dramatic, today. Snow, bears, wolves, ice wraiths... I doubt anything I do will actually reduce how bad that aspect of things is, without working out how to wipe out the entire bear population and somehow smite the clouds.

Probably not realistic...

For all the money you'd think they'd be making, selling harmful drugs to innocent people, these skooma dealers never seem to dress in much of anything but rags...

So here we are, back at Wolfskull Cave. Which is probably full of undead things. And has nightshade growing outside. And has animal skulls over the entrance. Yeah, this can only go well...

(Did you know that the Orsimer are the ones who originally invented sarcasm? I'm a proud member of my people and use their inventions joyfully.)

And the prediction comes true. Skeletons, the dried-out fleshy undead, and some necromancer mages throwing magic around. What a happy day this is. I am having a good time.

And it looks like to go further, I have to jump down this hole with no apparent way back out again. That is not ominous in any way.

Ah, and glowing magical mysterious something in the air. Of course. That would explain why this place was thought worth investigating.

Given the fact that mages like to fight at a distance, and make it hard for me to get close enough to have words with them, I think I might switch to the bow. I wonder if I could use shards of dragonbone for arrowheads? That would cause some trouble. Maybe next time I get my hands on some...

Some mysterious chanting, to summon "the wolf queen". If I have to fight a giant wolf down here, I'm going to be very confused.

I think what I hate the most about fighting necromancers is that if you kill something, you might not have killed it ENOUGH for it to actually stay dead. I suppose that's their whole thing, really. But when you're working your way through a crowd of undead and mages, just because something's motionless on the floor doesn't mean you can turn your back on it.

That's really frustrating.

Well, looks like I managed to interrupt whatever summoning ritual they were doing. The arrow through the leader's eye socket can't have helped, I think.

Hopefully that's that, and I don't need to deal with anywhere as creepy as this again.

I hate necromancers.

It seems like the Jarl of Solitude thinks I'm trustworthy. She's asked me to put an offering for her late husband at a shrine to Talos. As an Imperial Legate, I'm sure I'm meant to disapprove of that sort of thing, but it's become pretty clear that nobody actually believes in Talos not being a god other than the Thalmor, and the rules against his worship are at their order.

If they'll respect my oath to Malacath, I'll respect theirs to Talos.

But taking that offering is a job for tomorrow, that cursed cave took longer to clean out than I thought.


	73. 25th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Loredas, the twenty-fifth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I've kept quiet about today's task. It's just between me, Jarl Elisif, and whoever's found my journal. No need to make more trouble for her than I need to.

The shrine she's asked me to visit is down near Whiterun. So, back on the road, I suppose.

Still not a fan of the swamps south of Solitude. They're damp and creepy.

And full of mudcrabs that want to eat me.

And the only trace of colour is from the deathbells, which are also creepy. Just makes it that much worse.\

I suppose that's why I don't like Morthal.

And because I get all the joys, as soon as you're past Morthal and the swamps, it's straight into the mountains that split Skyrim north from south. Full of snow and spiders. And spiders.

And trolls.

And ten thousand identical trees, to make sure you get lost.

And dragon nests. Though strangely, no dragons here at the moment. They've pretty clearly been here, what with the dead cow that something carried up here, and the scorch marks. But no, just some bodies, scorch marks, and the dragon language monument. I think this one had something about disarming your enemy?

Finally! A pass through to the other side of the mountains. I think a bandit used to be using this one as a chokepoint to get anyone passing. But then a frost troll moved in, so no more bandit. And then I came through, so no more frost troll.

Well that was creepy. The south end of that pass opens out onto some Nord ruins that are full of ghosts who attacked on sight, but spent the entire time apologising for it? Just being attacked by ghosts is bad, but them apologising the whole time is just depressing... I should probably come back later to clear out whatever's going on here.

Getting through the mountains took longer than expected, given how much I got lost. Guess I'll be staying in Whiterun tonight.

Another attack by those creepy masked cultists from Solstheim. I think, once I finish this task for Jarl Elisif, it's time to go find out what's happening there, and put a stop to it.

Finally to Whiterun. A brief stop here, then there should be just enough time to get out to the shrine and back before nightfall.

You know, I'm really starting to think that the Talos worshippers and I have something in common. The Vigil of Stendarr wants the worship of gods like Malacath wiped out, and the Thalmor want the worship of Talos wiped out. So we have that in common.

It seems the Thalmor knew about this shrine from interrogating some prisoners, and instead of destroying it, they decided to watch it for anyone visiting, and attack them.

They're now missing two agents with a lot of blunt force injuries.


	74. 26th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Sundas, the twenty-sixth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I'm going to go via Fort Dunstad and Dawnstar, I think. Less chance of getting lost in the mountains, even if it's a bit less direct a route. Yesterday was quite enough being-lost-in-the-mountains-with-trolls for me, thank you.

There's a rather adorable young orphan girl in Whiterun that I feel really sorry for. Wish I could do something for her, more than a few coin.

That was an energetic start to the journey. Another dragon attack. A bit tougher than the usual ones, too. Frost breath again. Looks like I'll be getting my chance to try tipping some arrows with shards of dragon bone.

You know, the Dunstad Pass may be less likely to get you hopelessly lost in its trees and cliffs, but it's still full of spiders.

When I go to Solstheim, I hope it has fewer spiders.

That was strange. I just came across a troll fighting against two spriggans. Of course, when they were done, the spriggans turned their attention on me.

My hammer is still enchanted, and spriggans are still flammable.

Bandits attacked one of the Khajiit caravans. Luckily for them, I came along with good timing. A few dead bandits, and some grateful merchants. A good little encounter, overall.

~~~O~~~

Safely back to Solitude. The Dunstad Pass was definitely a good idea, much quicker and safer than the other mountain passes, or going around past Rorikstead. I'll have to remember that.

The Jarl thanked me for helping her put her husband to rest. I've got the right to buy property in Solitude now - and maybe one day become a Thane here as well. This could be a good place to buy a house, I suppose. Better than Falkreath.

But for now, I'll head to the docks, and see if I can't get passage to Solstheim. Never been on a boat before...

Doesn't look like any of the ships here are mounting trips to Solstheim any time soon. Oh well. In the morning, I'll head east again, and check the other ports. Dawnstar usually has something in port, otherwise I'll be going all the way to Windhelm. No point trying in Winterhold, they have too much ice and not enough harbour to be much chance of finding something there.

Just enough time to try making dragon bone shard arrows, I suppose.

If my dragon bone hammer feels like it could shatter a god, then these dragon bone shard arrows could definitely pierce a god.

Going to save them for something that really needs killing.


	75. 27th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Morndas, the twenty-seventh day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

It's a cold day on the northern shores of Skyrim, and the ice wraiths are out in force. As are the bandits. I've decided that I'm not going to chase after the bandits who try to take me down with archery. They want to sit at range and play that game, I'll get some practice.

Looks like there's no ship in Dawnstar looking to head to Solstheim any time soon, either. Guess I'm heading back to Windhelm. I've not been there since the battle, and the end of Ulfric Stormcloak.

Hopefully some of the anti-non-Nord sentiments have quieted down a little since the end of the war.

Just met a Thalmor patrol, escorting a prisoner back to wherever it is they take Talos worshippers to punish them. I don't confess to anything, you understand, and I have no idea what happened to the missing Thalmor patrol. I wasn't there.

It's a fairly quiet journey, today. Some wolves, some bears, but no more bandits, and luckily no spiders. That's nice.

Further to my previous comments, I also have no idea what happened to the missing Vigil of Stendarr patrol that was in the area, either.

The walls and great stone bridge of Windhelm... I must admit, I do prefer it when it's not a siege with firepots being thrown either way, and hundreds of archers. Peace is better.

It looks like there's still a decent amount of Stormcloak sentiments and loyalists in the city, even if things are peaceful for now. The heavy Legion presence might be responsible for the latter part. We'll definitely need to keep an eye on the situation here, I'll check in again when I get back from Solstheim, assuming I can ever find a ship to take me. Time to head down to the docks.

Seems the one ship in Solitude that was interested in sailing for Solstheim is the one that the cultists took to get to Skyrim. Not that the captain had any say in the matter, looks like they took over his ship and knocked him out.

He didn't want to sail back to Solstheim, but a bit of extra coin smoothed everything out.

~~~O~~~

I hate ships.

Everything is going up and down and up and down and up and down and I think I might lose my lunch...

~~~O~~~

It's well past dark, but I think it's still Morndas. I'm going to find an inn to get some sleep in, and get my bearings in the morning.


	76. 28th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Tirdas, the twenty-eighth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I went to bed in the inn at Raven Rock, and I woke up... working on some sort of shrine with hammer and chisel.

I have no idea where I am. There are strange little blue goblins here, and I keep hearing a mysterious voice.

I'm going to look around, and probably hit something with a big hammer.

Looks like the people around here are getting mind controlled into building a temple. The one uncorrupted person I found said that this is a temple to Miraak, the one who's controlling the cultists. Not the best idea of them to bring me here with no warning. The cult is here, and I'm in a bad mood. Time to smash some heads.

The uncorrupted person I found, Frea, is coming with me to investigate the temple. She seems capable enough, if not Legion trained. It'll be good to have the company for ruin-delving.

It seems like Miraak was one of the ancient dragon servants. That makes him being behind the attacks on me all the more creepy, but it would explain why the temple above ground is being newly built (or rebuilt?) but down here, it's an ancient ruin.

Full of cultists.

And full of the undead. Because what's an ancient ruin without the restless corpses of ancient warriors? I hate it already.

There is an unusually high number of traps through this maze-like place. And what seems to be one of those puzzle lock doors that I've seen before, that someone took the easy solution to.

It's on pieces on the ground.

That, I approve of.

As we go deeper into this temple, we're finding more and more of Miraak's ancient victims. Skeletons mostly. At least, I hope they're ancient. It's almost like they were hung up as decorations, or for something ritualish. Either way, creepy.

I've seen a few dragon skeletons before, but it seems Miraak wanted to put one on display. Certainly dramatic, and hanging over another one of those dragon language inscriptions. Not entirely sure what power this one is infusing me with.

A big fancy dining area, set with plates and such. Is this the ancient power centre, or just the cult's canteen? Either way, it didn't have anyone in it. Bit anti-climatic really. But the deeper we get into here, the more worrying and creepy things seem to get.

This ruin is certainly more elaborate than any of the tombs I've seen in Skyrim. I suppose that makes sense, if Miraak were planning on ruling from here rather than just being buried here. Still. Creepy.

A much higher propensity for deeply creepy statues, too. And another dragon skeleton used for decoration. That part is actually kind of tempting, if I ever set up my own doom fortress. There seems to be a good supply of willing dragon volunteers...

That. Was. Weird.

I think I got transported somewhere else, but only partly? It might have been somewhere in Oblivion, for all I know. Not the Ashpit, for all Solstheim seems to resemble it at times. Miraak was there, along with... horrendous squid creatures with too many mouths and tentacles.

Seems Miraak wants to conquer the world. Bit uncreative of him, really. But that's what's going on. He's apparently trapped wherever he is, and needs his temple built to get free.

That's something to stop, then.

Finally free of that temple.

I've been told that Miraak was dragon born, like myself, and he's using that power to its peak. There's a dragon word of power that I need to learn, to start putting a stop to this.

I have no idea where on the island I am, or where I started, but I've been told which way to go. I guess it's another night of sleeping in snow, just like being back in the war. Hooray.

Well. That was ... something that happened.

I just came across a mage who was apparently trying to discover how to fly. He didn't stop to speak, at all, but the ranting was a bit informative. He managed to launch himself into the air pretty well, too.

The landing, less graceful.

A bit splashy.

I'm going to just... move hastily along.

That was a hard fight, and no mistake. The dragon word wall they sent me to find was guarded not just by a dragon, but also a pack of undead. But the really annoying thing was that the dragon just WOULD NOT LAND. Not anywhere I could reach it, anyway.

I put one of my new dragon bone shard arrows into it, which seemed to annoy it at least, but it mostly turned into a game of hiding from its frost breath until I got my chance.

And once it was down, then I heard Miraak's voice as he took the dragon's soul. While I find the way I absorb their power a bit disturbing, having this jerk come in and do it instead is just rude.

I'm going to find somewhere to set up camp out of the wind, and head back to the village in the morning. It's late, and cold, and I'm grumpy.


	77. 29th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Middas, the twenty-ninth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

Started the day off with a fight with an overgrown spriggan.

They're still flammable.

I used the dragon shout that I just learned on the standing stone that the mind-controlled people were building a shrine around. The shrine just... exploded, and the people came free of the control. So that's good.

Of course, some giant monster popped out of nowhere right after, so I had to have some Words with it.

With the people freed, it seems like the Skaal village is starting to return to something like normal. But I'll have to get somewhere else to learn what there is to do next. Apparently to the south? Hopefully I can find my way back to Raven Rock, since that's where I came in by, and my link back to Skyrim. Maybe if I follow the coast. Solstheim is meant to be an island, and Raven Rock was on the coast (kind of had to be, since the ship docked there...)

Better than random wandering, I suppose.

Found another one of those standing stones, this one decorated with sun motifs. I used the same shout on it, and the same thing happened. No idea how much progress it will make against Miraak, but it's something he doesn't want, and that's good enough for me.

~~~O~~~

The giant mushrooms are an interesting sight. Worth investigating, perhaps?

Apparently the giant mushrooms are a Dunmer building technique. That's kind of fun. And it's actually the place I'm meant to be heading, to find out more. Not to Raven Rock yet, but hopefully getting closer.

You know, if they had told me that I was looking for the wizard who lives in the giant mushroom, I'd have had an easier time planning my journey. Or maybe I'd have laughed in their face. You never know.

And now we're off to some Dwemer ruins. Not "can you help me explore these ruins?", not "when is a good time to go to these ruins?", just... "follow me".

Sigh.

But apparently the black books of weird mystical power are actually artifacts of Hermaeus Mora, Daedric prince of knowledge. I suppose the place the book took me to must have been his realm of Oblivion then. Apocrypha, I think?

I've dealt with Clavicus Vile, now Hermaeus Mora, hopefully at some point I get to actually meet Malacath. That would be something special.

Of course, bandits had taken over the outside of the ruins. The thing that Dunmer bandits have over Nord bandits is a LOT more mages in their ranks. Having a Dunmer mage on my side is a nice balancing factor, though.

And to nobody's surprise, the creepy Dwemer automatons are down here and still active. Good thing I'm armed this time, unlike in the prison escape in Markarth.

These flooded ruins would be a lot easier to explore if I still had a helmet equipped with water-breathing magic.

The wizard's overly fancy accent is starting to get to me. Let's explore another paaassage, shall we?

Finally finished exploring everything here. Time to grab this magic book, and hopefully not end up transported to Oblivion again.

~~~O~~~

I said it, knowing what curses lie on this journal. I said it, I picked up the book, and now I'm in Apocrypha, a plane of Oblivion.

Joy.

It's been a long day, too. I've no idea of the time, out on the surface world, but I'm tired. But I can't rest here.

This world is strange, and there are things that have too many tentacles that want to kill me. I don't like this.

Also, I can see where Miraak's temple got its strange architecture from. Don't like that either.

Whatever disgusting liquid is here can suddenly grow angry tentacles. Can't say I'm pleased about this.

When I get out of here, I'm going to find somewhere dry, with no tentacles, and sleep for as long as I can. I'm really starting to wish that I'd gotten some rest BEFORE talking to the mage.

Finally out of Apocrypha, and we get attacked by a damned dragon, sent by Miraak. Just my luck.

Happily, it was stupid enough to land just next to me.

As for a bed, it's the absolute pit of night. We cleared out a bandit camp at the entrance to the Dwemer ruins, I intend to use one of their bedrolls. I earned it.


	78. 30th of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Turdas, the thirtieth day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

I only got a few hours of sleep before dawn, but better than nothing. I'm going to try to get to Raven Rock today, and hopefully I get a little further, and not led into ruins or Oblivion again.

I hope I won't regret writing that.

I just got attacked by the weirdest undead I've ever seen. I'm not sure if they were covered in ash and stone, or made of ash and stone, or what... lots of fireballs from them, though.

Found the most interesting vein of rock, with a red glow to it. I decided to chip some off, to see what I can do with it later. Never know what it might let me make.

If there's one thing that bandits have in common everywhere you go, it's their predilection for setting up the creepiest-looking bases possible, with charred corpses on spikes and everything.

If there's two things, it's the very satisfying noise their skulls make when hit with a big hammer.

Just ran in to someone investigating these undead. Apparently they're called ash spawn? I took down a few more that were attacking him. Might come offer to lend a hand later, once I've actually recovered from... whatever the past few days have been. Kidnapping, trips to Apocrypha, getting thoroughly lost, sleep deprivation...

And there, finally back to Raven Rock. It's much more lively now that it's not a visit in the middle of the night. I'm going to rest here, even if there's still daylight left that I could be productive in. Solstheim is strange, and if I just keep going with no rest, I'm going to go mad.

They say that visiting the planes of Oblivion is supposed to make you go mad, so maybe that's it.

Are they Planes of Oblivion or Plains of Oblivion? There wasn't much flat land on display in Apocrypha, what with all the disgusting black I hope it was water, but you never know. It's funny when you only ever hear something said out loud, never seeing it written. For all I know, they could be Pleynse of Oblivion. Even though that isn't a word.

There seems to be a temple to Azura, Boethiah, and Mephala in Raven Rock. It's so refreshing to see a good honest temple to Daedric gods, instead of Skyrim's obsession with only the Aedra being worthy of recognition.

I can only assume that I won't be having any problems with the Vigil of Stendarr on Solstheim, if this is the sort of temple you find in the main settlement...


	79. 31st of Frost Fall, 4E 201

**Fredas, the thirty-first day in the month of Frost Fall, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

An actual night's sleep in an actual bed, and one where you wake up in that same bed, will do a wonder for your state of mind.

I was thinking over the nature of this new dragon language shout. It's focused on bending the world, and even people, to your will. I don't like that. I'm fine with using it to push Miraak's influence out of places, but I'll not be able to bring myself to use it on anyone. That's just not right.

There's another one of those standing stones outside of Raven Rock, complete with mind-controlled people building a creepy structure. Clearing that off, that's just fine for using that new shout.

I'm going to try the inland route to get back to the Skaal village, hopefully I don't get too lost.

I just got attacked by the strangest spriggan. I keep talking about how useful it is, when they attack, that they're flammable. Apparently, on a volcano-blasted island, they come pre-burned and loaded with fire magic. That's just not right.

The spiders in Skyrim are awful. The ones here are smaller, apparently, but with fire magic, and if you kill them, THEY EXPLODE. What the shit, Solstheim?!

Of course, the inland route over the mountains takes me right past Miraak's temple. That place is still creepy, and apparently there are some ancient dragon skeletons littering the mountain around it.

I found the standing stone that I woke up at ... yesterday? two days ago? whenever, and pushed Miraak's influence off of that one too. He probably won't be happy with me about that.

It looks like the knowledge that the Skaal have kept hidden from Hermaeus Mora isn't anything particularly useful or powerful, he just wants it because they've kept it from him.

Rather childish, really.

The Shaman has said he'll think about helping me, but that I need to cleanse the other standing stones to cleanse a bit more of Miraak's influence from the island. He was pleased when I told him about today's efforts. I think there's only one more to go. The fact that the last one is back on the opposite side of the island is just typical, but luckily it's not too big a place.

I think I'll try the coastal route, but going north. See what there is that way.

That was odd.

Just came across some pirates digging up a really ancient-looking chest. There was a helmet inside, quite fancy, and very definitely magical.

One of them was carrying a book with ghost stories about it, and a map.

Might be worth trying to collect the other parts of the armour, if only to study them.

The northern coast "path" seems to have a lot more rocky cliffside into the sea, and a lot less actual shoreline than the southern...

There's an old abandoned dock here, looks to have been previously operated by the East Empire Company? It's in pretty rough shape, you'd not want to try getting a ship anywhere near it at the moment.

Just passed by what looked like a small village of those little blue goblins. Or, tried to. They started throwing spears as soon as they saw me. And they respond to a hammer to the face just like everyone else does: Badly.

Well now! Another one of those ancient chests embedded in the ground, this one with the gauntlets that seem to match that helmet. Only mudcrabs guarding this one, though.

And that's the last of these stones cleared of Miraak.

This one had taken hold of the crew of a passing ship, who were VERY confused about why they'd even landed.

And it had one of the cultists guarding it.

And after I took down the giant fish-tentacle-monster thing that came up when I cleansed the stone, a dragon attacked.

And after I took down the dragon, some more of those little blue goblins attacked.

It was weird, overall.

I'm going to try to get back to Raven Rock by nightfall, for another night in a real bed.

This has been an odd day. Taking the route around the north coast has now got me three of the four parts of that set of armour, from half-buried ancient chests, just by sticking to the coast. This one had the local bandit population digging it up.

Well, it wasn't before nightfall, but I made it back to Raven Rock. And an interesting outcome: the smith here had a knife with an enchantment he called "chaos damage". It might do fire damage, it might do frost damage, it might do lightning damage. Maybe it will do more than one, or even all three.

That sounds like something that's worth my time. I'm going to pull the enchantment apart, learn it, and start considering how I'd get it onto my hammer.


	80. 1st of Sun's Dusk, 4E 201

**Loredas, the first day in the month of Sun's Dusk, in the two hundred and first year of the fourth era.**

There's a mine entrance in Raven Rock, apparently. The guards mentioned that it's gone dry, but used to be pretty plentiful for ebony ore. Now that's enough to get a girl curious.

You've got to love finding old people with conspiracy theories. The claim is, something sinister happened, and the East Empire Company had the mine sealed to hide it. I'm not exactly a believer, but permission to explore a mine that something interesting might have happened in? Either I find proof of something dramatic, or I find proof of nothing. Either way, should be interesting.

So far, looking good for the "the mine ran dry and is also full of spiders" theory. Gross.

Ah.

Beyond a boarded-up entrance and a locked door, I think I know why they shut the mine.

This isn't a mine any more.

They tunneled into one of those lovely Nord undead-filled tomb complexes. Charming.

I've heard people say that these undead are unintelligent, and just attacking on instinct. These people are either lying or stupid.

If they were attacking with just their hands, I could believe that. Even swinging the weapons they were buried with.

But I've taken one too many dragon language shout, and one too many well-aimed arrow, to believe that. Maybe it's not the original spirit and mind, but there's something in there.

Ah, and that old classic of tomb design: the "please jump down this ledge with no obvious way back up" gambit. Can't say I'm ever happy about that one, but worse comes to worst, I have my pick, I'm in something vaguely resembling a mine, I'll dig my way out if I have to.

This is probably where that old guy nearly fell to his death. It'd be a good candidate.

Well. Here's the two hundred year old remains they wanted me to look for. Guess that confirms that he didn't die in a cave-in. This tomb only gets creepier.

There's a magic-locked door, and it looks like I need to swing this magic sword that the dead guy found, in just the right way to open it. I've thought about it for a while, and I think this doesn't violate my oath? I'm not fighting with the sword, just twirling it for magic nonsense reasons.

I'll make sure to give my hammer and my bow a good workout to make it up to Malacath, if there is any doubt.

Oh, an entire corridor full of those swinging axe traps. Joyful.

Another one of those dragon language walls! I can feel some more of the dragon power from this one, it's an interesting feeling.

Oh, and another one of the creepy black books. I should take it, I suppose, but that will just have me end up back in Apocrypha I think. Never fun, that.

I suppose it can't be helped.

~~~O~~~

Apocrypha remains creepy. I hate these tentacle monster things that appear out of nowhere.

Note to self: if the creepy monsters refuse to come out of the toxic water, shower them with arrows until they decide to come deal with you. Either they get into hammer range, or they die a pincushion. Either works.

I think I've found the end of this little part of Oblivion. That was... quicker than the last time. I'm glad. The last time was something ridiculous to get through.

~~~O~~~

Just my luck. I came out of the deep part of the crypt... right into part being hunted through by some bandits.

There are fewer bandits now.

And, I suppose, I'd rather fight them than the undead.

Made it back to Raven Rock just before dark. Looks like once word gets around, they'll be reopening the mine. That's good news.


End file.
